


Not Reached by the Frost

by Victumbraticum



Series: Deep Roots [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel Castiel, Angel Gabriel (Supernatural), Angel Inias (Supernatural), Angel Soulbonds, Angels, Angst, BAMF Castiel, Best Friends, Bonding, Canonical Character Death, Child Abuse, Crying Dean, Divorce, Domestic Violence, Drinking, Family, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Growing Up, Happy Ending, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Pre-Slash, Profound Bond, Protective Castiel, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3117281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victumbraticum/pseuds/Victumbraticum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where angels grow up among humans, Castiel is stuck hiding his nature from his best friend. When he finally gets his adult wings, Castiel has no choice but to reveal his true nature, risking not only his presence on Earth but his friendship with Dean.</p><p>When Dean meets the new kid that just moved up the street, he's excited to have a made a new friend. As life for the Winchester family becomes more difficult, Castiel becomes a constant comforting presence in the boys' lives - especially Dean's.</p><p>This story follows Dean and Castiel's friendship from when they meet (at age eight) to Castiel's coming-of-age at twenty-six, wherein Cas must bond with Dean - platonically - or risk being sent back to Heaven.</p><p>While this was written with Destiel in mind, it can easily be read as a very, very close friendship (particularly because Dean and Cas are kids through much of the fic and I can't write childhood romance to save my life).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cupidsbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupidsbow/gifts).



> I had originally started a completely different story for the 2014 Dean/Cas Secret Santa Exchange, but with finals and trying to get all my graduate school applications out on time, I knew there was no way I was going to finish it. Unfortunately I waited a bit too long to start a new story (this one) so it's not quite what I intended (particularly because I was just going to write something short and sweet, I was thinking, like, 5000ish words, ha!).
> 
> To cupidsbow: I'm not sure how well this fits with your prompts. I'd started this story planning to write something fluffy and cute about best friends and bonding and then somehow it turned into this slightly angsty beast. I hope this is at least somewhat close to what you wanted! If I ever finish that other story I was trying to write, (which was a little more accurate to your prompts), I'll gift it to you as well. Anyway, I really hope you like this!
> 
> I (obviously) don't have a beta, so I will probably proofread this a bit more over the next week or so, but I wanted to make sure I had this posted on time.
> 
> Expect random tense shifts (I’m terrible with these, it happened a lot). I don’t even notice I’m doing it most of the time so hopefully it won’t be distracting for anyone else since it certainly wasn't for me! 
> 
> POV will shift between Dean and Cas. The difference should be obvious as there will be separation marks to indicate the change, but if you aren't sure it's "Cas" in Dean's POV, otherwise it's "Castiel" (since I think Castiel would refer to himself with his full name).
> 
> In case you haven't noticed, I've never posted a story before, so if you were assuming this was my first finished fanfic as well as my first Supernatural fic, then you'd be right. (If you notice any mistakes or missing tags please let me know!)
> 
> Title taken from a J.R.R. Tolkien quote: "Deep Roots are Not Reached by the Frost". It felt appropriate here.
> 
> (See 'End Notes' for Trigger Warnings and other notes)

\- - - -

Dean Winchester met the boy with the funny name on an unnaturally cold day in April.

He had been sitting outside with his younger brother, Sam, trying to distract him from the distant sound of his parents arguing inside. Dean loved his family more than anything, but he didn’t understand why they fought so much.

The sound of something crashing had Dean tensing, wondering if he should go inside and ask them to stop, but he didn’t want to leave Sam alone. Instead, he pulled his brother out into the lawn and sat down with him there.

Since all their toys were in the house, Dean had taken to messing with Sam in an effort to keep him occupied, which was stupidly easy to do to a four year old. He poked at Sam’s face and belly, causing him to laugh and bat Dean’s hands away, occasionally grabbing on his fingers and tugging in an attempt to make him stop.

A car door slammed somewhere nearby, and Dean jerked his head up at the noise. For a moment, he thought Uncle Bobby might have shown up. He was the best at talking to their parents when they were fighting. Sometimes he even took Sam and Dean out for ice cream. Dean knew Uncle Bobby was just trying to distract him, when he did this, but he was grateful anyway. Sam was just a kid, and he shouldn’t have to listen to his parents argue.

Dean was disappointed to see their driveway was empty. Frowning, Dean looked around and saw that a car had pulled up to the vacant house just up the street. Dean remembered the family that used to live there. The Middletons. Dean used to hang out at their house all the time when he was younger, they’d had a daughter about his age that liked to watch _Transformers_ with him and make castles out of Legos. When they moved away suddenly almost a year ago, Dean had been really upset that he couldn’t see his friend anymore, not even at _school_. His mother had been very sad when she told him they didn’t live there anymore, but she didn’t seem to want to tell him why.

The house had been empty ever since, but Dean had noticed someone took down the ‘For Sale’ sign last week. He hoped another family with kids his or Sammy’s age would move in there. He missed having friends in the neighborhood.

Sam tugged at his shirt, bringing his attention back.

“Who’sat?”

Dean looked in the direction Sam had pointed and saw a young boy, probably about his age, standing stiffly on the sidewalk across the street, staring at them intently. He’d never seen the kid before, either on the street or at school.

Dean lifted his hand and waved at the stranger, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Sam did as well, though much more enthusiastically.

The boy hesitated only a second before waving back, and after a moment, he crossed the street and approached the brothers.

Dean was curious, but he wasn’t stupid. His parents had made it clear that it was his job to look after his brother, and that meant being wary of strangers. So, as the boy approached, Dean stood to greet him, but made sure Sammy was slightly obstructed by his body.

The boy stopped a couple feet away from Dean and just stared, and Dean got a good look at him.

He reminded Dean of the private school kids Dean had seen in a movie once. His clothes were a lot nicer than Dean’s, there were no dirt stains on his khaki pants and even his blue button up wasn’t wrinkled at all, unlike Dean’s clothes. It looked like the kind of outfit Dean usually wore church.

The boy stood stiff, with his shoulders back and his head level, as if he was trying to hold himself as still as possible. It reminded Dean of the people who could balance buckets or stacks of bricks on their heads without holding them. He’d tried that a few times with his school books, seeing if he could walk to one end of the house to the other without dropping them. Dean had never made it very far.

The whole time Dean was staring at him, the boy did the same. The attention made Dean uncomfortable, he’s never had anyone look at him like this. Dean made sure to look Cas in the eye. His father had said that real men make eye contact, or else they’d seem weak. Dean didn’t want to seem weak.

“Uh, hi.”

“Hello.” The boy said.

Dean frowned, the kid seemed odd, and Dean worried he might be the kind that liked to sit around and read or play piano. Dean didn’t think this kid was the type to play with Legos.

“Did you just move in up the street?”

He nodded. “Yes, I live there with my brothers.” He paused and then seemed to remember something and added, “my name is Castiel.”

Dean scrunched up his face and eyed the boy. “Tha’s a weird name,” he accused.

The boy with the weird name frowned slumping his shoulders, and Dean immediately felt bad. His mother had always taught him to be nice to other people and respect their differences, and she would be upset to know that Dean had hurt someone’s feelings.

He hurried to reassure him, “sorry! It’s not a bad name,” he stepped forward and waited until Cas-something looked back up at him. “lt’s just kin’a hard.” Dean furrowed his brow, trying to remember the way the other boy had said it. “Cast’l, Casseel, Cast-el.”

The boy tilted his head to the side, looking confused but less offended than before. “Castiel,” he said again slowly.

Dean opened his mouth to try again, but he didn’t get past “Cas-” before Sam interrupted him.

“Ca-tle!” Sam shouted bouncing up and down on the grass. “I’m Sam!” He said leaning around Dean and pointing proudly at his chest. “And this is my big bruv’r Dean.” Sam nudged Dean slightly.

“Hello, Sam.” Cas nodded down at him, before turning his gaze to Dean. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean held out his hand like he’d seen his father do and waiting until Cas went to take it, “Hey, Cas, it’s nice to meet you.”

Cas seemed confused by the nickname, but he didn’t tell Dean he couldn’t use it, so Dean figured it must be okay.

The three of them sat in the grass, Dean didn’t think Cas would want to get his pants dirty, but Cas said he didn’t mind, and they talked for a long time.

Cas told him he had moved here from Colorado with his older brother Gabriel, and a younger brother, Inias. Dean was sad for him when he said he didn’t have parents but Cas said it was okay because he had Gabriel to take care of him.

Dean was excited to find the boy was his age, and that they’d both be going to the same school in August. Dean still thought he was a little weird, but he wasn’t as lame as he’d thought. Cas had never heard of the _Transformers_ or _Star Trek_ , so he wasn’t a fan like the girl who used to live on the street, but he agreed to watch it with Dean sometime, so he supposed that was something.

It was a long time before Dean’s parents came out to get them. Sammy, hopefully oblivious to the fighting, ran up to his mother immediately, grabbing her legs and shouting about the new friend they made.

Cas stood when Dean did, hovering next to his shoulder as he introduced Cas to his mom and dad. Cas offered both of them a handshake and said “it’s very nice to meet you” which earned a nod from his father. His mother seemed to think Cas’s politeness was adorable.

Promising to come by again sometime, Cas left, and Sam and Dean went inside for dinner.

\- - - -

“Gabriel!” Castiel called, shutting the door behind him as he tumbled into the house. “Gabriel!”

Gabriel appeared in front of Castiel in an instant, eyes wide and brows raised. He stared down at Castiel curiously, eyes searching his face.

Pulling the oversized lollipop from his mouth with a slick noise, wings still fluttering at his back from the sudden flight, he said, “what is it, Castiel?”

Gabriel assured him that the humans could not see his wings the way Castiel could. That only other angels could see the shadow of his wings, while they were hidden. Castiel paused to stare up at Gabriel’s wings enviously. He couldn’t wait until he got his own.

“I made a friend today.” Castiel told him seriously, with just a hint of excitement in his voice. He’d never had a friend before, other than Inias. He hadn’t had a chance to meet a lot of people when they lived in Colorado. “His name is Dean and he lives down the street. He’s really nice and his soul is _so_ bright, Gabriel. He has the brightest soul I’ve ever _seen_.”

It was true. The light of the boy’s soul is what had drawn him to the house in the first place. He was almost like a beacon, sitting out in his front lawn and shining bright enough to catch Castiel’s eye the moment he stepped out of the house. Castiel couldn’t imagine how bright it must look to someone like Gabriel.

Castiel was much younger than Gabriel, who had gotten his wings centuries ago, and bonded with a human he knew at the time.

Gabriel had told him that their father wanted the angels to grow up among humans so they could better understand them. As fledglings, Castiel and his brother, Inias, were still somewhat stronger, faster, and more knowledgeable than the humans, but they wouldn’t receive their wings and become full angels until they hit puberty, (which Gabriel tells them probably won’t be until their mid-twenties). Only when they got their wings would they will be able to enter Heaven.

Castiel was never too interested in the idea of Heaven, probably because Gabriel always seemed so cynical about it.

In order to remain on Earth – at least, for extended periods of time – they need to create a bond with a willing human. Only by using the power of the human’s soul would they be able to hide their wings and tether themselves to Earth. Though Gabriel and his human had a somewhat ‘on again, off again’ relationship, he’s assured Castiel that most angels and humans bonded platonically.

Gabriel’s human, Kali, was the reason they were currently in Kansas. Kali had been reborn a few years ago, and once Gabriel found her he’d relocated them immediately. Castiel hadn’t met her yet, assuming that it was because she was still so young by human standards. Gabriel was content to wait until she was older, before approaching her and reminding her of their bond.

“Well, can’t wait to meet him kiddo.” Gabriel said with a grin.

He summoned another handful of lollipops and offered one to Castiel, shrugging when Castiel shook his head.

“You didn’t tell him about the ‘angel thing’, did you?” Gabriel asked around a grape lollipop, pausing halfway through opening a new one to tap it against his head. “You know we gotta keep that under our hats, yeah?”

Castiel sighed. “I didn’t tell him anything, Gabriel. Promise.”

“Good.” Gabriel nodded. “Now go find your brother. We’ve got some errands to run.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See 'End Notes' for warnings.

Less than three months later, Dean’s parents got divorced.

His mother had sat down with him and explained that she and his father did not get along as well as they used to, and that they both still loved him and his brother, but they just couldn’t be together anymore. Dean wanted to protest, to beg them not to leave, but he knew he had to be strong for Sammy. So he nodded and hugged his mother and buried the sadness as far down as it would go.

He had been sitting on the porch a week later, watching Sam play with his Tonka trucks out in the driveway while his mom and a couple of her friends moved her stuff out of the house.

His parents had agreed that Sam and Dean should stay with dad, since he’d be keeping the house and there was much more space there. Dean was at least glad he wouldn’t have to change schools, but he really hated that his mom had to leave.

It bothered him, knowing that all his friends at school got to live with both _their_ parents. Dean didn’t think it was fair that he couldn’t see his mom _and_ his dad every day anymore. At least when they fought they were all still together. Dean thought that’s what families did. His mother had promised she would never stop loving him and Sam, he thought that meant she’d never stop loving dad either.

He was so caught up in his own thoughts he hadn’t realized someone had approached him until Cas was _right there_.

“Hello, Dean.” He said.

Sam’s head shot up at the sound of his voice, and he waved at Cas from where he’d been crashing his cars together. “Hey Cas!”

Cas looked over at Sam and smiled. “Hello, Sam.”

Cas had been hanging out with them off and on for most of the summer. For all Cas’s oddness, he was actually pretty cool. He didn’t know much about any of TV shows Dean liked, but they had spent an entire day out in the woods a few weeks ago, and Cas had gone through and identified every bug Dean could find. Dean spent most of the day digging through the dirt and fallen trees, trying to find something Cas didn’t recognize. Even when Dean got desperate and started pointing at different birds, Cas was still able to name each one.

Later, when they got back to Dean’s house, Dean had spent three episodes explaining to Cas the difference between Autobots and Decepticons. Dean kinda liked that he could teach Cas stuff, too.

Cas sat down next to Dean on the stoop, close enough that their arms bumped. That was another thing about Cas, he had no concerns about personal space. No matter what Dean was doing, Cas would get as close as possible, constantly bumping against Dean’s shoulder or trying to talk to him from less than a foot away. It was odd, but not uncomfortable, so for the most part Dean didn’t mention it.

“How are you, Dean?”

Dean shrugged, leaning forward to wrap his arms around his knees. He could hear his mom taping up boxes inside the house. “Been better I guess.”

“Of course.”

A surprisingly comfortable silence fell between them as they watched Sam drive his truck around the driveway, making it perform tricks and picking up imaginary passengers. Dean wonders, briefly and not for the first time, what it would be like if he could do that. Just sit in the driveway and pretend his family wasn’t falling apart.

“Would you like to watch _Star Trek_ again?” Cas asked, tilting his head and looking over at Dean. “You can explain the Klingons to me.”

Dean thought about it for a moment before shaking his head.

“Nah,” Dean said, standing up and looking down at Cas, who was watching him intently, as if whatever Dean was about to say next was important and he needed to be paying attention. The only other person who ever looked at him like that was Sammy. “Let’s go race boats at the creek. I think dad left some wood in the garage we can take.” Dean thought it was a good idea to get away from the house for a while. “We c’n write names on them and use some leaves for sails.”

Cas nodded and smiled, standing also. “Alright.”

“Heya, Sammy.” He waited until Sam looked up. “Wanna go play at the creek with me ‘n Cas?”

\- - - -

Dean’s father had not taken the divorce so well.

The process had been gradual, to the point that Dean wasn’t sure when it had escalated from ‘a thing’ to ‘a problem’ to Dean being the mediator between his entire family.

The day he started to realize just how bad it was, Dean was on the cusp of age nine.

Their dad had steadily been drinking more and more ever since mom left. He’d come home later than usual that afternoon, reeking of alcohol and walking unsteadily on his feet.

Dean and Sam had been in the kitchen, looking over the supplies they’d need to get before school started back up next week. Dean was trying to make a list from both their school needs, so he’d only have to go to the store once. They hadn’t realized their father was home until they’d heard the crash of the console table hitting the floor.

Dean, not knowing yet who it was, had told Sam to wait in the kitchen and to not move unless Dean told him to.

When Dean walked out into the foyer, it was to find his father leaning against the wall next to the fallen table, staring at the mess on the floor as if he wasn’t quite sure how it got there.

“Dad?” Dean walked over and straightened the table before staring up at his father. Dean didn’t realize it at the time, but this would be the first of many moments that he would find his father drunk before five o’clock. “You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, back off, ‘m fine.” He hiccupped, trying to wave away Dean’s hovering. “G’on. ’s nothing.”

“Dad, Sam’s in the kitchen,” he whispered urgently, gripping his arm. “You can’t let him see you like this.”

“Well maybe you should- maybe tha’s you’re damn job, Dean, huh? Should know better than to have him here.” His dad shrugged his arm off and tried to stand back up, but he fell back against the wall almost immediately. “Fuck,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Fuck, fuck.”

Dean frowned. His dad almost never cursed in front of them. “Dad, stop it. Sam-”

“ _Shut up_ , Dean.”

His father reached up and shoved at Dean’s chest, hard enough that Dean, who hadn’t been expecting it, stumbled back a step, tripping over one of the books that had fallen off the table when it hit the ground.

Dean hit the floor hard and gasped, slightly disoriented from the sudden change in position.

“Dad?”

His father hadn’t seemed to notice what had happened, he was too busy trying to stand up without the help of the wall, and failing. Dean scrambled to his feet and approached his father again, slower, this time, only to have his dad collapse forward onto him almost immediately.

Instinctively, Dean grabbed onto him, positioning his father so that his was partially supported on Dean’s shoulder, with both Dean’s arms wrapped around his chest, holding him up.

“C’mon, kid, help me t’ my room.” His dad mumbled against his shirt. Dean could smell the alcohol on his breath from this close. He tried not to gag.

The struggle of getting his father from the front door to his bedroom upstairs without alerting Sam was the first of many Dean would undertake. His father kept losing his footing, or tripping over his own feet, forcing Dean to take more of his weight. Dean’s dad was a big guy, and though Dean considered himself pretty solid for an almost-nine-year-old, he was difficult to support. By the time Dean managed to get his father into bed he was sore and exhausted.

“Dean?” Sam said when Dean made it back downstairs. “’s Dad okay?”

“Yeah, buddy,” Dean said ruffling Sam’s hair with an unsteady hand, “he’s just tired ‘s all. Went to bed early.”

Sam pouted. “But, Dean,” he whined, “what about dinner? You told me we had to wait for dad to eat.”

“I know, buddy.” Dean tried to remember how much money he had left in his piggy bank. He could probably afford to get Sam some dinner, but he couldn’t leave him here alone. Dad was in no state to protect Sam if something went wrong. “You can wait with Gabriel while I run out and get us something, okay?”

Dean packed Sam up in his coat and gloves and walked him over to Cas’s house. He’d been hoping Cas might be home, so they could walk to get food together, but Gabriel informed him that Cas had been visiting family that day and he wasn’t sure when he’d get back.

Dean didn’t want to wait for him, only thanked Gabriel for watching Sam, who had already gone inside and was now chatting up a storm with Inias, Cas’s younger brother. Dean didn’t know him too well, but he’d seemed nice enough. Kind of kept to himself when Dean would visit.

By the time Dean had walked all the way to the top of the street, the reality of his situation hit him like a train.

His father was a drunk.

His father was a drunk and his family was broken.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

Dean could feel his chest tighten and his breath come up short. He stopped in his tracks and curled forward over his knees, trying catch his breath. Sweat broke out across Dean’s skin and he shivered, the thin hoodie he was wearing wasn’t enough to keep out the chill of the January air, yet he felt simultaneously too hot and horribly cold.

He couldn’t be out here. He couldn’t let people see him like this. Dean looked up and caught sight of the old Baptist church across the street. He’d never been there himself, but whenever they passed the place during the week the parking lot was usually empty. Dean hoped the church would be too.

Luckily the doors were open and the sanctuary was dark.

He ran up to the front altar, desperate for a place to hide and _breathe_ , and ducked in between the benches he knew were usually reserved for the choir. His father never made Sam and him go to their church anymore, now that mom had left, and even when they visited her she rarely forced them to go. It felt weird to be in a church by himself like this.

Dean curled up in between two rows of benches and inhaled slowly. His hands were still shaking, like he’d seen grandpa Campbell’s hands do when mom had quietly informed Dean that her father had Parkinson’s and that he shouldn’t mention it. Maybe that’s what Dean had.

By the time he’d calmed down enough to stop shaking, he’d noticed the little blotches of wetness on his knees where he’d hung his head over them. Great, now he was _crying_ like a child. His parents would be ashamed of him. He was supposed to be getting food for Sammy. He had someone to take care of. He didn’t have time to break down in a _church_ because his dad came home drunk. Sammy needed him to be strong.

Of course, the memory of his dad stumbling through the house, pushing him around, and not being able to walk up the stairs on his own brought a new wave of tears. He coughed a little, leaning his head back against the wall and shutting his eyes.

He just needed a minute to pull himself together. Then he could go.

Dean was so distracted he hadn’t heard the door to the church open, or the footsteps. It wasn’t until Cas had reached out and touched his knee that Dean jerked his eyes open with a gasp.

“ _Cas_?” Dean hastily swiped at his damp cheeks even though he knew Cas must have seen them already. ”What’re you doing here?”

“I,” Cas hesitated, glancing away for a moment before looking back. He always looked Dean in the eye when he spoke. It had never really bothered him before now. “I saw you run in here.”

Dean laughed dryly, crossing his legs and staring down at his hands where they sat in his lap. So someone _had_ seen him. even if it was just Cas, Dean couldn’t help the wave of shame he felt. “Yeah, great.”

Cas frowned. “Dean-”

“It’s nothing, alright? I’m fine. I was just going to get Sam something to eat.”

Cas tilted his head, looking honestly confused. “In a church?” He asked, squinting at Dean as if he thought he was missing something.

Dean rolled his eyes. “ _No_ , Cas. Obviously.”

“Oh.” Cas glanced around. “Then, why are you here?”

Dean shut his mouth with a click. He hadn’t wanted to tell _anyone_ about dad. He could imagine their looks of pity, he got a lot of those when his parents first separated. Worse, they might try to get Sam and Dean taken away from dad. Dean was old enough to know that the police would take children from ‘unsafe’ homes. Dean couldn’t let that happen. They were all the family their dad had left, anymore.

So instead of answering, he just shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Dean. You’re upset-”

“Cas!” Dean shouted, interrupting whatever it was Cas was going to say. His voice echoed across the vaulted ceilings, making it much louder than he’d intended.

Cas didn’t seem bothered, though, even though Dean had just yelled at him. He just sat down in front of Dean, mirroring his positon. After a moment of consideration Cas reached out and placed a hand on Dean’s knee. When Dean scowled at it he only gripped tighter.

“What happened, Dean?”

And really, Dean had _no intention_ of telling this kid, who he still barely knew, anything about his family. But when he looked up at Cas Dean didn’t see any of the frustration or pity or disgust he might have expected. Cas only stared back patiently, as if he was willing to wait for an answer as long as it took.

He could feel the warmth of Cas’s hand where it was still resting on Dean’s knee. For a while, Dean focused on that. It was kind of comforting, like the way Dean would sometimes pat Sam’s back after he had a nightmare.

In the end, Dean wasn’t sure _why_ he told Cas the truth, but when he opened his mouth, instead of telling Cas again that he was _fine_ and they should just go, he said, “my dad came home drunk today.”

Cas listened patiently as Dean retold the whole story: finding his dad in the living room, being pushed down, having to help him to bed without Sam noticing. Cas never interrupted, and when Dean started to tear up again Cas didn’t react other than to scoot closer to Dean until their knees bumped.

He hated crying in front of other people. Big kids didn’t cry. But Cas didn’t seem disgusted or like he was judging Dean. He just looked a little sad.

When the story was over, Dean looked down and waited for Cas’s reaction. Sure that he’d at the very least lecture Dean about how a father shouldn’t treat his kids like that, and that Dean needed to tell someone what happened.

Which was another issue Dean should have thought about. What if Sam said something and Gabriel got concerned? What if he went over to Dean’s house and found out their dad was drunk. What if _Cas_ ran home to Gabriel or reported his father to the cops? Dean wasn’t sure what he’d do but he couldn’t let anyone take his dad away.

Dean jumped when Cas stood up suddenly, startling him out of his thoughts.

“It might surprise you to know,” Cas started. Pausing long enough that he figured Cas probably expected Dean to look at him.

Dean just curled his shoulders around himself, staring at Cas’s feet and waiting.

After a moment Cas seemed to realize Dean was not going to respond so he continued. “It might surprise you to know that Gabriel’s actually a very good cook.” He paused. “I think he was going to make burgers tonight. There’d be enough for you and Sam, if you wanted.”

Dean was so relieved he felt all the tension leave his body at once. Cas wouldn’t tell on Dean’s dad, and he wasn’t going to lecture him about his decisions. All Cas wanted was to help, and now, not only did he not have to worry about how he was going to feed himself and Sam with only six dollars in his pocket, he also had someone he could trust with this secret.

Dean took a shuttering breath and looked up at Cas, scrubbing his cheeks with the back of his sleeve. Cas gave him a small smile and held out his hand.

Dean knew, the moment he took it, that he and Cas were going to be stuck with each other for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of divorce.
> 
> Language (cursing).
> 
> Brief Domestic Violence, (John shoves Dean), and Drunk Character (John).


	3. Chapter 3

School started back up again and Dean and Cas were closer than ever.

If Dean had been worried that his friendship with Cas might have affected his relationship with Sam, he needn’t have bothered. Sam and Cas took to each other almost instantly. Sam had always been a curious kid, and now that he was getting older Sam was starting to realize that there was a world of knowledge beyond what Dean could teach him.

These days, Sam would come out with them when they’d go to woods, and it was Sam who would ask after all the different kinds of creatures they found. He would even ask Cas about the different types of trees, and which berries they could eat.

In a way Cas and Sam were kindred spirits; both of them too smart for their own good. Even though Sam was only a few months away from being seven, he was an undeniably sharp kid, but Cas in particular had a wide range of knowledge that seemed out of place in an eleven-year old.

They had been sitting outside with Sam on one of the warmer days in March, roasting marshmallows in Gabriel’s fire pit, when Sam pointed to a line of bright stars and asked what they were.

Dean had opened his mouth to say he didn’t know when Cas interrupted him, identifying the line of stars and ‘Orion’s belt’ and indicating the rest of Orion as well as several other constellations – many of which Dean had never even heard of.

“Gabriel considers education important, Dean.” Cas told him when Dean asked how the hell he seemed to know so much about _everything_.

“I hardly know everything, Dean.”

Dean frowned. He had met Gabriel several times before, and if anything he’d have expected him to try and fashion Cas into a baker or chocolatier. Not a damn astronaut. Or park ranger.

“I can’t really imagine Gabriel stargazing with you, Cas.” Dean said later that night, after Sam’s attention span had worn out and he ended up curled between Dean and Cas, snoring lightly.

“He’s smarter than he seems.” Cas shrugged, and they left it at that.


	4. Chapter 4

They studied angels in middle school.

Angels were hardly unknown to humans, it’s just that, for the most part, they kept themselves hidden. The ones that remained on Earth were all bonded so that they can remain undetected, but the occasional angel might choose to identify themselves for one reason or another, usually with a badge or symbol that indicated their true nature.

Fledglings were instructed _never_ to give away their real identities, and for the most part this was simple enough. Young angels didn’t have the same abilities a full angel had, and in most ways they grew up in the same manner that human children did.

Many humans, however, didn’t like the idea of having angels mingling with humanity. They questioned the purpose of it all, and wondered what angel’s true motive might be for pretending to be human.

Such complaints had eventually spawned the ‘angel studies’ course in most schools, which was required for every student.

Dean in particular hated this courses. He, like his father, was less than convinced of the integrity of the angels, complaining that if they were so powerful, why would they need to _use humans_ to hide themselves? How could they let so many people, so many children die every day knowing they had the power to save them?

These classes were an attempt to answer these types of questions, but Dean remained stubbornly unconvinced. Much to Castiel’s dismay.


	5. Chapter 5

Just after the end of the school year, Castiel is sitting at the kitchen table with Mary Campbell.

The brothers had gone to visit her for a couple weeks at the beginning of the summer and Dean had insisted Castiel come along because, “you’re around all the time anyway, it’d be weird leaving you behind.”

Castiel, already well versed in Dean’s ability cloak sappy comments in casual statements, took the complement for what it was, and after getting approval from Gabriel, he’d agreed to go.

Being an angel meant not needing much sleep, and so Castiel hid his abnormal sleeping patterns under the guise of being a morning person. Which is why Castiel was currently rolling dough into biscuits at seven o’clock in the morning with Dean’s mother.

He’d come downstairs less than an hour ago to find Mary sitting at the table of her tiny apartment, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. She seemed surprised to see him at first, telling him she figured she’d be shaking him awake at noon like the rest of the kids, and for a moment Castiel wondered if he shouldn’t have feigned sleep a little longer. But she seemed to understand when he attributed his wakefulness to the routine of school.

“Dean seems quite taken with you, Castiel.” She says suddenly as Castiel is handing her the freshly rolled biscuits to place on the baking pan.

Castiel, not certain how to respond, just nodded and said, “yes, he is my best friend.”

For some reason, Mary smiled at this and for a while she didn’t say anything else, just going through the process of placing the rolls on the pan and covering them with a glaze.

Castiel could understand why the Winchesters were so taken with her. He’s obviously never had a mother of his own, angels didn’t have parents so much as guardians, like Gabriel, who would raise and protect them, but he could still see the appeal of having a gentle presence like Mary around the house. There was something peaceful about bustling around the kitchen with Sam and Dean’s mother, helping her make breakfast.

They made omelets and bacon together, Mary politely directing Castiel to open packets or hand her different items, all the while asking after Castiel’s life. He told her about Gabriel and Inias, what he was studying in school, and the kinds of things he and Dean did together. Mary listened patiently, a soft smile on her face.

By the time they had breakfast all laid out on the table it was just after eight in the morning. Castiel agreed to go and wake Dean and Sam up for breakfast.

He was halfway through the kitchen door when Mary stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder. She waited until he turned to look at her before saying,

“I know John’s been… _rough_ since the divorce and I just,” she sighed. “Dean’s so protective of Sam already. And I, I like knowing Dean has someone there for him.”

Castiel stared back at her before nodding. “Of course, Ms. Campbell.”

\- - - -

Castiel had a secret love for Disney movies.

‘Secret’ in that Dean didn’t like him telling people, though Castiel couldn’t fathom why. Sam said it was because Dean didn’t want anyone to realize that _he_ loved the movies too. A comment which resulted in Dean grabbing Sam by the waist and tickling him relentlessly.

Castiel couldn’t explain what it was about these movies that he enjoyed. Perhaps it was the singing, or each tale’s tendency towards a happy ending. He didn’t quite get the same enjoyment out of the action films Dean encouraged him to watch.

They were sitting together in Mary’s living room the night before they had to return home. Mary had already gone up to bed for the night, informing the kids that they shouldn’t stay up too late, and that she’d see them in the morning.

Sam had wanted to watch some new Disney movie that was playing on one of the stations they didn’t get at home. Castiel had heard of it, but not seen it before. It was something about angels, where an angel and a human teamed up to stop the world from ending, falling in love along the way. Dean protested this movie strongly, instead wanting to watch one of the action films Sam insisted he was ‘not allowed to watch, Dean’.

They both looked at Castiel, who admitted he’d much prefer the cartoon over rewatching _Die Hard 2_. Dean’s look of utter betrayal was _almost_ enough to make Castiel change his mind.

The movie was pretty interesting, as far as Castiel could say. But Dean was pretty judgmental about the angel thing on the best of days, much to Castiel’s discomfort, and tonight was no different. He frequently voiced his skepticism that an angel would even _bother_ to help a human save the world. Claiming that they seemed more interesting in watching things fall apart rather than doing anything to fix it.

“But wouldn’t it be cool to meet one, Dean?” Sam had asked during one of the commercial breaks.

Dean scoffed, shoving a handful of chips into his mouth. “Why? What the hell had they ever done for us?”

Castiel winced.

“That’s not the point, Dean! Didn’t you pay attention in your angel studies class _at all_?’

“Eh, whatever.” Dean continued when Sam only scowled, not noticing Castiel’s uneasiness. “It’s not like we’d have angels in friggin’ _Kansas_ anyway.” He snorted. “Those winged dicks are probably too good for this place.”

“ _Dean_!” Sam shouted

Castiel did his best to block out the argument, focusing instead on the television where the characters were locked into yet another music number.

He didn’t blame Dean for his dislike of angels. Dean had suffered in his young life and it was difficult for many humans to understand the restrictions of angels, believing they should help simply because they _could_. But what humans didn’t consider was all the good that can be born from tragedy. A woman dies of cancer and the family starts a charity organization, two people get divorced and find happiness in a new career they’d never have gotten before, a child dies in an accident and safety precautions are investigated. It wasn’t always an even trade, but that it didn’t make it any less necessary.

Still, Castiel didn’t think his counter argument would be welcome here. And so he kept silent as Dean and Sam bantered back and forth.

\- - - -

“I’m going to choose Dean.” Castiel told Gabriel the night after he got back.

Gabriel looked up from where he’d been filling out forms for Inias. He’d been raving to Castiel, (and anyone who’d listen), about the choir and how he was going to join because it reminded him of the angel’s song.

Since birth, the angels are connected to each other through song. The sound was less ‘in their heads’, as Gabriel explained, then it was on an alternate wavelength that all angels were instinctively attuned to. Castiel spent many nights lying in bed and listening to the sounds of his brothers and sisters singing to each other. Castiel had only ever heard the school choir do renditions of modern pop hits. He didn’t think an acappella version of “Say My Name” sounded anything like the angels.

“You sure, Cassie?” Gabriel set his pen down and cocked his head at Castiel, arms crossed. Despite his words, however, Gabriel did not seem surprised. “You’re still young, you know, and you haven’t known Dean all that long.”

Castiel nodded firmly, moving to sit at the table across from his brother. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“I thought he didn’t like angels?” Gabriel said gently, which was a feat in itself. Gabriel was usually all brash comments and quick jokes. The idea that he was actually worried about Castiel’s decision was as heartwarming as it was bizarre. “He might reject you.”

“I don’t care.” Castiel said firmly. “I will protect him anyway.”

Gabriel hummed and looked at him for a while. Castiel knew his next question before he asked it.

“You plannin’ on telling him?”

Castiel knew this would become an issue, now. Once an angel chose the person they want to be their host, they were permitted to reveal themselves as an angel to that individual alone. If Castiel was certain Dean was his choice, (and he was), he could walk over to Dean’s house right now and let him know.

If he rejected Castiel, if he attempted to reveal him or his family, then Castiel would have to leave. Angels would come and wipe Dean’s memory of him completely, and he’d force Gabriel and Inias from their home. Even if they stayed in Kansas, Castiel couldn’t imagine living in the same town where Dean had turned his back on him.

Deciding to put it off for now, Castiel shook his head slowly.

“Not yet.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See End Notes for warnings.

When Dean was 13 their mother died.

There had been a fire in her apartment complex, several people didn’t make it.

The fire had started in the apartment above her, as Dean would later find out. The Firefighters determined that the resident had over loaded an outlet, and a short in one of the plugs had sparked a fire.

Mary had been sleeping in the room below, and by the time the fire alarm went off, the ceiling had already partially collapsed on top of her, pinning her to the bed.

Despite her injuries, they had been able to get her to a hospital, but by then it was too late. The smoke inhalation and internal bleeding was too severe. The doctors were sure she wouldn’t last the night.

Dean spent the entire night pacing through the ICU, alternating between hovering in the doorway to his mom’s hospital room, (where Sam and his dad were), and pacing the hallways and waiting area, full of far too much energy.

He had only stopped once. In one of the waiting rooms on that same floor, Dean had come across a woman who had indicated she was an angel. Dean wasn’t sure what she was doing there, probably offering support for grieving families. Dean was far too upset to care.

When he noticed her, Dean ran up and clutched her arm desperately, begging her to save his mother. He knew angels could heal people, she could do it if she wanted to.

But all she did was shake her head and tell him sadly that she couldn’t, that it didn’t work that way, he stared at her for a long time, every tiny attempt at reason and ‘please, she’s my _mom_ ’ was met with the same small headshake and look of pity until finally he shoved off of her and stomped down the hall.

He should have known better.

On the other hand, Cas never left his side, even as Dean alternated between raging and frustrated tears for most of the night.

He would look at Cas and shout the worst things, trying to piss him off, to get him as riled up as Dean was. To break that damn _calm_ he seemed to carry around himself effortlessly. It wasn’t fair that Cas could be so unruffled while Dean’s world was being ruined.

“What are you even doing here, huh? You don’t even have a mom!” He spat. “Why don’t you just go home, alright?”

Cas just looked at him sadly. “I cared for Mary too, Dean.” He said. “And I am not leaving you.”

When Dean turned and stormed off Cas followed him, staying a few feet behind, but never leaving

Later, Dean would turn back and Cas would be _right there_ , waiting for Dean to step forward and bury his face against Cas’s neck. Dean would cry and apologize. Tell Cas he didn’t mean it. That they _were_ family. That he needed Cas and Cas couldn’t ever leave him like this.

Cas just kept repeating "it’s okay, it’s okay, Dean, I know” and stood there with his arms wrapped around Dean for as long as Dean needed him to.

\- - - -

It wasn’t until the delicate hours of the morning that Dean’s exhaustion finally caught up with him.

He and Castiel were sitting next to each other on the bench just outside of Mary’s hospital room. Dean hadn’t wanted to go into there, hadn’t wanted to see his mother broken and burned and hooked up to so many machines, but he couldn’t leave her either, so Castiel had retrieved a bench from down the hall and sat it across from her door. They could still see Mary with Sam and John sitting in the chair next to her, but the true damage to her body was blurred by distance. For Dean at least.

Dean had fallen asleep almost the moment he sat down, and was now curled up next Castiel, head on the angel’s shoulder, with one hand curled around Castiel’s arm, as if to ensure he wouldn’t leave while Dean was asleep. Castiel reminded himself to make sure Dean had something to eat when he woke. Maybe Gabriel could bring them something. He was sure Sam and John were no better off.

Castiel had called Gabriel earlier and told him what happened. He’d practically _begged_ him to come here and do _something_. Dean’s happiness was tied too deeply into his already broken family. Castiel worried what the loss of his mother would do to him.

Gabriel had be sympathetic but firm. “You know there’s nothing I can do, Castiel. It’s not permitted. I _can’t_ be involved.”

It was true, and Castiel knew it. Angels had to abide by their own set of rules, and deviation from those riles would result in anarchy. While Castiel was certain Gabriel could heal Mary, it would likely result in his own exiling from Earth, and Mary would have to die anyway. It was the same reason the angel from the waiting room, (Castiel had never seen her before, but he thought her name was Hannah), had not been able to help. Angels could only interfere with the family they’d chosen to protect, and even then saving a life was a delicate decision. It was not their place to decide such things.

Still, Castiel was disappointed. “Yes, I understand.”

“Buck up, kiddo.” Gabriel told him with a sigh. “And take care of that shiny boy of yours. He’s gonna need ya.”

\- - - -

The next morning, Mary was gone.

Dean was still furious at the idea that his mom had raved about angels all her life and yet none of them could be bothered to come and _save her_.

If his father’s alcohol consumption was bad before, it was a full-on crisis now. Dean was old enough to recognize an alcoholic when he saw one, and after his mother’s funeral their dad went from downing a couple bottles of whiskey a week, to one or two a day. The smell in their childhood home no longer held the faint aroma of home-cooked meals or his mother’s perfume, now all he ever smelled when he crossed the threshold was spilt whiskey and body odor.

Dean spend the next few years struggling to keep his family together, to keep them going, ignoring his own grief long enough to reassure his brother and clean up his dad.

That was also the year that ‘dad’ became ‘John’.

All the while, Dean struggled to assure everyone he was ‘fine’, that they were ‘fine’, and honestly as long as Sam never witnessed the worst of John’s violent outbursts, Dean didn’t see any reason to fuss. Uncle Bobby knew John was less of a father and more of a liability these days, but he at least respected Dean’s assurance that he didn’t want to leave. In truth, Dean would have given anything for them to live with Uncle Bobby, except that Bobby lived over an hour away, and Dean couldn’t bear the thought of changing schools, of leaving his friends.

Leaving Cas.

\- - - -

Castiel couldn’t help but notice that Dean treated him differently than his other classmates.

Well, he didn’t so much treat Castiel differently than he allowed Castiel to treat _him_ differently.

The revelation came to him in the midst of a random school lunch. Castiel still balked at the frankly alarming ‘food’ options provided by the school, most of them containing some form of meat by-product or coming in plastic packaging that boasted a meal just a day or two sky of expiring. Whenever he voiced his complaints, Dean would usually roll his eyes and shove what the cafeteria worker assured everyone was ‘chicken’ into his mouth, complaining that Gabriel had obviously spoiled him with his fresh, home-cooked meals. Castiel just insisted he had _standards_.

Truly, he didn’t even _need_ to eat. Gabriel only cooked because he had a strange love for human sustenance, and that since he was the assigned guardian to Castiel and Inias, it was his job to ensure they blended in with humanity as seamlessly as possible. So whenever Castiel voiced his disinterest in eating, Gabriel insisted that Castiel was ‘odd enough already’ and if he didn’t ‘shovel food into his face like a normal human teenager’ he would undoubtably raise suspicions. While Castiel conceded to this logic, he still refused eat the questionable substances provided in the cafeteria. He was confident that the rumor that a student had been hospitalized after consuming the school’s ‘clam chowder’ last month, was not a rumor at all.

Needless to say, Castiel brought his lunches.

Deplorable food quality aside, Castiel’s general lack of eating gave him the opportunity to be a lot more aware of his surroundings.

They had been sitting at the lunch table one random day when he came to his epiphany. Dean was and always has been a very tactile person, specifically when it comes to his family. Castiel witnessed the way Dean frequently hovered in Sam’s space, hugged him when he was distressed, tickled him when he need to be distracted, or just pestered him in general because ‘that’s what brothers do, Cas’.

But on the other side of things Dean was almost _shy_. Though he would never say it out loud, Dean almost actively avoided being touched.

Castiel witnessed it now when Pamela, a pretty young girl with a vibrant soul – if not anywhere near as bright as his human’s – sat down next to Dean. Immediately she twisted her body and leaned heavily against his side, pressing the back of her head against the flat of his shoulder, and snuggling in completely as if she belonged there.

This was hardly out of character for Pamela. Castiel had only known her for a few months now, since she started sitting with them during lunch periods, but it had been immediately apparent – even to those without the intuition of angels – that she was very physically affectionate. Not an hour after they had first met, Pamela was casually hanging over Castiel’s shoulders as he explained their math homework to her.

Verbally, Dean made no indication of his discomfort regarding Pamela’s proximity. Even his response was casual.

“Well, just make yourself at home.” He said with a small, half-smile that looked more strained than it usually did.

If he was trying to send Pamela a hint, she didn’t get it, or else she ignored him. Dean’s tone was friendly enough.

But his body language told a different story. He had tensed up the moment her body collided with his. If his response had been born of surprise he would have relaxed by now. Even as Pamela prattled on about one of her class projects, Dean didn’t relax. He rarely did anything more than turn his head, and the few movements he did make were stiff and controlled. He kept shooting glances at the side of Pamela’s head as if contemplating a polite way to shrug her off. He didn’t say anything, but Castiel knew he wanted his personal space back.

Despite his obvious discomfort, (obvious to Castiel at least), he made no attempt to dislodge her. Pamela remained pressed against his arm for several minutes before being distracted by someone across the lunchroom. Castiel didn’t see what had drawn her attention – he was watching Dean, not Pamela – but when she wordlessly climbed from the bench and strode away, Dean’s shoulders visibly relaxed.

It happened again later that day.

He and Dean were sitting at the curb outside the high school with Benny Laffite, chatting with each other before he and Dean had to go pick up Sam from the middle school down the street.

Benny had laughed at something Dean had said and threw his arm around his shoulders, tightening his hold briefly before settling into a sort of one-armed hug.

Dean was still smiling, but it looked less natural than before. Now it appeared to be fixed to his face, stiff and unchanging. When Dean turned to look at Benny, who was now raving over some new jambalaya place three blocks from his house, Dean leaned his head away slightly, as if trying to create distance between the two. Even his knees were tucked together and angled away from the other boy. Other than Benny’s arm around his shoulder, Dean was making a conscious effort to put distance between them.

Benny didn’t seem to notice, but Castiel did.

Still, he hadn’t noticed Dean’s discomfort with touch _before_ , and he berated himself for missing such an important aspect of his friend’s personality.

Over the next few days, Castiel watched how Dean interacted with his fellow classmates, and where Dean would not hesitate to clap Benny on the shoulder or help someone up off the ground or rub his fist against the top of Sam’s head, (though Sam was becoming a bit too tall for that, these days).

Castiel made a conscious effort to back off a little after that.

It wasn’t an easy task. Castiel was used to being very close with Dean, letting their arms brush as they walked through the halls, or sitting as close as possible when going over their math homework together. He had to actively force himself to stand back when Dean called him over to help pull a book out of his locker – without having all the other contents come loose and topple onto the ground, really Dean – or later when they were walking home and Castiel had to keep himself from bumping against Dean’s shoulders.

Almost three days into Castiel’s struggle to give Dean space, Dean brought up the change.

He had walked over to Dean’s house that Friday after school with the intent of coercing Dean and Sam into spending the night at his house. Dean would tease Castiel, calling him a ‘girl’ for apparently being into sleepovers, and usually promising pillow fights and hair braiding, (but given that they never did either of those things, Castiel was pretty sure Dean was joking). They both knew Castiel’s real intention was keep Dean away from his own home – and subsequently out of John’s way - as often as possible, but they were both content to not mention it.

Castiel could hear the muffled thumping and shuffling that indicated John was indeed home. The low thrum of Dean’s voice and the answering slurs led Castiel to believe Dean was likely helping his father to bed, not unheard of even in the midafternoon hours. Castiel waited patiently, giving Dean plenty of time to settle his father and make sure he wouldn’t hurt himself before he rang the doorbell.

Even without the sounds, and Castiel’s own slightly heightened senses, he could tell Dean was stressed the moment Dean opened the door. A teenager should not walk around with his brow furrowed and deep shadows under his eyes. Dean looked exhausted, and it hurt Castiel to see.

Dean stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door behind him. Castiel immediately steps back as well to give him space. He has to constantly be aware of their distance, otherwise he’ll end up clustered far too close to Dean, attracted to the light of his soul like moths to the lanterns they used when camping in Gabriel’s back yard on the warm summer nights. It was addictive, and inevitable, and part of Castiel wondered at how he could expect himself to resist such an inviting soul.

Dean frowned at Castiel, then at the space that separated them, but chose not to comment on it.

“Sam’s at Andy’s.” He said, dropping any pretense of not knowing why Castiel was there. “He’s gonna come by Gabriel’s when they’re done doing…whatever.”

Castiel nodded. Sam made an effort, these days, to spend as little time at the Winchester home as possible. If he wasn’t spending time with Castiel or Inias, he’d usually find some excuse to go to the library or the mall or some other place that just wasn’t here.

Essentially, he chose to be any place John was _not._

“I think I left a change of clothes at your house from last time.” Dean continued, locking the door. “Or I’ll just borrow some sweatpants, if that’s cool.”

The fact that Dean didn’t even pretend to need convincing – and that he and Sam had already agreed to go to Castiel’s tonight – spoke volumes. Clearly, John was being particularly difficult. Or Dean was hitting his limit. Either way Castiel wasn’t surprised.

Knowing Dean would not like to address the proverbial ‘elephant in the Winchester home’, Castiel said, “I think Gabriel is making meatloaf tonight.”

The expression in Dean’s eyes were grateful. “Awesome.”

The walk back to Castiel’s house was its own struggle, Castiel trying not to breach what he had observed to be an ‘appropriate distance’ based on Dean’s interactions with others.

Dean frowned again.

Later that night, they were sitting in the living room, staying up late to watch a _Jurassic Park_ marathon after Inias and Sam headed off to bed.

Gabriel had opted for the biggest couch he could comfortably fit into their living room, choosing a large U shaped sectional that somehow fit in the room without making it seem crowded. So when Dean chose a seat Castiel didn’t have to work very hard to give him space. Not wishing to make Dean think he was consciously changing his behavior, (and not being particularly interested in straying too far from his friend), Castiel took the cushion nearest the two Dean was spanning. As an added measure, he plopped the bowl of snacks between them, hoping to deter his own natural inclination to lean into Dean’s space like a planet surrendering to the gravity of the sun.

Throughout the movie marathon, Dean kept shooting Castiel tiny glances in between his commentary. During one of the commercial breaks he finally broke.

“Ok, dude, you mad at me or somethin’?” He said it casually but his expression was more hurt than Castiel usually saw it.

Castiel shook his head slowly, “of course not.”

“You sure? ‘Cus you been kinda, all,” he waved his hand at the space between them and Castiel was surprised to see his face redden slightly, “ _distant_ lately. I don’t know.” He paused and scrubbed a hand over his face before looking at Castiel again, “’s weird, dude. What’s up?”

Castiel was at a bit of a loss. Dean had seemed so uncomfortable with the way other people encroached on his space, Castiel never expected him to address it. Especially with so much…confusion? Concern?

“I piss you off or something?” Dean said slightly incredulously. Mumbling a quiet: “didn’t even know that was _possible_ -“

“No, Dean.” Castiel said.

Dean threw up his arms, clearly frustrated. “Then _what the hell_ , man?”

“It’s,” Castiel paused, uncertain how to proceed.

Dean was rather defensive about people analyzing his actions or interpreting his feelings when he’d prefer to keep them hidden - which, of course, was all of the time - but in the face of uncertainty Castiel usually chose blatant honesty over subterfuge.

“You don’t seem to enjoy it when people violate,” Castiel saw Dean scrunch his nose at the word choice, “your personal space. I was merely trying to be respectful.”

Dean seemed truly baffled. “The hell you talkin’ about, Cas?”

Castiel recounted his observations with Pamela and Benny, and the general student body as a whole. The way he leaned away from physical contact and seemed uncomfortable when someone got too close to him. Castiel’s impeccable angelic memory made it easy for him to recall numerous moments to defend his interpretations, even before he began to acknowledge Dean’s idiosyncrasies.

Castiel said nothing of his suspicions that this had anything to do with John Winchester’s less-than-gentle treatment of his son, but he was sure Dean’s mind strayed that way anyhow. Despite Castiel’s diplomatic treatment of the ‘John issue’, his disdain for the man did not go unnoticed by any of the Winchesters, (that’s assuming John noticed much of anything in his son’s lives, these days).

“It’s not that I don’t- I mean, I’m not- It’s just, _ugh_.” Dean rolled his eyes at himself. “Look it’s not like it _bothers_ me when other people,” he sneered and air quoted, “’touch me’ or whatever. I’m just not used to that kind of casual hugging and whatever from people I’m not, like, really close to. But you and Sam, I mean, we’ve known each other forever.” Dean smiled a little awkwardly before reaching out to shove at Castiel’s shoulder. “And you’ve kind of always been that weird huggy type anyhow. You’ve been in my personal bubble since we _met_ , Cas.”

Castiel searched Dean’s face, but he didn’t have to analyze his expression to know the sincerity of his statements. Underneath the embarrassment born of this conversation was a prevailing sense of truth.

“It’s just, different with you, alright? Now can we _please_ stop talking about this?” Dean groaned.

Castiel nodded, waiting until Dean moved the bowl to the table and patted the empty space next to him before settling in like he would have normally. Their knees pressed together lightly, and when he turned to offer Dean a small smile their shoulders bumped.

Castiel couldn’t deny his preference for this close proximity. Dean’s soul was very inviting at the worst of times, and now when he was separated from John with Sam safely upstairs, he was at his most content. Castiel enjoyed Dean like this, especially since it was so rare, these days. Since Mary.

“It doesn’t bother _you_ , though.” Dean asked with a furrowed brow, and Castiel realized he’d been staring. “Does it?”

How could it possibly bother Castiel? Being so close to someone like Dean. For all of Dean’s hard edges and repressed emotions there was something endlessly pure about his soul. It was telling in a way that Dean himself would never be, and the idea that he was one of the privileged few that could actually _see_ it – as much as a fledgling could perceive a human soul – was humbling. Still, Castiel couldn’t say all that – not yet – so he settled with,

“Of course not, Dean.”                                                                                                                                              

“Well, ok. Good.” Dean nodded to indicate that the conversation was over. “Now, stop being weird. The marathon’s barely half-over.” And with that they both turned back to the screen, and Dean relaxed properly for the first time that night.

Selfishly, Castiel relished in the idea that he could give Dean the safety and comfort he needed. While John should be the one providing the stable home life and warm acceptance typical of a father figure, knowing that Dean had formed a familial relationship with Castiel and his brothers was a heady sensation. At least in this way, Castiel was keeping his promise to Mary and himself. He was not lying to Gabriel when he said he’d chosen Dean. And he was not, would not, change his mind.

Dean fell asleep on the couch that night, head pillowed against Castiel where his body had toppled sideway near the end of the second movie. Castiel looked down at his friend - mouth open, snoring lightly, soul pulsing almost visibly beneath the surface of his skin – and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mary dies (not graphic).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See End Notes for warnings.

It was after a particularly bad night, in which John’s drunken stumbling intentionally turned physical, that Dean finally broke.

Dean was sixteen at the time, balancing his school work with the part time job he had at one of the local garages. The money from Mary’s life insurance was enough to keep their heads above water for the most part, but when John decided to become a full-time alcoholic Dean figured a little extra money around the house couldn’t hurt.

Which is why Dean was occasionally late getting home. One night in particular Dean had picked up a shift after school without telling John. He ended up not getting home until almost ten o’clock.

Dean was exhausted. As much as he loved working at the garage, it was physical work, and after spending seven hours at school and another six changing oil and rotating tires, all Dean wanted to do was stumble to his room and crash before he had to get up the next day and do it all over again.

Unfortunately for Dean, he had barely taken one step into the house before John was up and in his face.

By ten at night, John was typically well into his second bottle of whiskey, and Dean knew that trying to reason with him when he was like this was just shy of pointless. The moment John saw him he started screaming the same crap he always did.

The only comfort was that he never did this in front of Sammy. For whatever reason, John resorted to little more than disapproving stares and vague grunts when Sam was home, for which Dean was eternally grateful. The fact that John wasn’t hidden away in his bedroom right now told Dean that Sam had probably left the house a while ago. Dean tried not to be irritated that he hadn’t told Dean where he was going.

“Who-What gave you the right t’ run off, _huh_?” John spat in his son’s face. Dean was almost as tall as John, now, unfortunately leaving him at the perfect position for shouting.

“I didn’t run off, okay, I was at _work_ ,” Dean said leaving out the obvious ‘unlike you’ and trying not to sneer.

Personal hygiene was not a high priority for alcoholics as Dean was beginning to learn. John was wearing the same clothes Dean had seen him in three days ago, and the rancid smell of body odor mixed with stale whiskey was enough to make him gag. He’d have to clean his father up before going to bed. Maybe he could throw in a load of laundry, if the washer was still working. Cas had done _something_ to it the other day when Dean told him it had died, and it’d been working so far, but Dean knew better to keep his hopes up. It’s not like Cas was particularly adept with machines, anyway.

Dean tried to push past John and head further into the house, mentally going over his to-do list for the rest of the evening, but John grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back up against the door, knocking his head against the wood and kicking the breath out of him.

“What the hell!” Dean gasped, trying to wiggle away. “Get off.”

“You think, you c’n just go off wherever without tellin’ me?”

Dean wasn’t sure what made him respond. He knew better than to try and reason with John when he was like this. He should have just apologized and helped his father to bed, maybe change his sheets and the clothes he’d been marinating in. But for whatever reason tonight he wasn’t in the mood to play peacemaker.

“Maybe I just figured you’d be too drunk to care if I came back at all!” Dean yelled.

Much like that first time years ago, Dean didn’t realize he’d been hit until he was already on the ground. The side of his head was throbbing, and he looked back up to see his father still standing over him, fist clenched and trembling. He looked surprised at himself, as if he too didn’t quite understand what had happened.

They stared at each other for a moment before John turned and stumbled back to his bedroom, now downstairs since he was normally too drunk to go very far, and slammed the door.

Dean stayed on the floor a moment longer before climbing to his feet, almost shaking as hard as his father had. By the time he realized where he was going, Dean was already knocking on the door of Castiel’s house.

Gabriel answered it almost immediately, as if he had been waiting for Dean to knock. He took one look at Dean, who must have looked pretty pathetic because all he said was, “Cassie’s upstairs, kiddo.”

Cas met him at the bottom of the stairs, probably having heard Dean knock. Dean was glad Cas didn’t look like he’d been sleeping, he’d have felt bad if he’d woken him up. Cas did look pretty pissed though.

“Dean? What happened?” Cas stepped up into Dean’s space, and placed his hand against his face where a bruise was probably already forming. It probably should have hurt, Cas pressing against the injury the way his was, but the warmth from his hand was more comforting than anything.

“John was pissed ‘cus I didn’t tell him I was working after school, s’ I got home late.” Dean mumbled. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a-” Cas cut himself off and shut his eyes for a moment before looking at Dean again. “Dean he _struck_ you! How can you be okay with that?”

Dean hadn’t expected Cas to be this angry, (he wasn’t sure he’d ever actually _seen_ Cas angry). Still, he hadn’t removed his hand from Dean’s face.

“It’s the first time it’s happened Cas. It’s _fine_ , alright? I could tell he felt bad, after.” A sudden horrible thought occurred to Dean and he nearly jerked back out of Cas’s grasp. “Cas you, you won’t report him will you?”

Cas sighed, stepping forward to close the space Dean had put between them, and pressed their foreheads together. “No, Dean.” He whispered. “I wouldn’t do that to you. But,” he looked up at Dean, and Dean had to blink to bring him into focus from so close, “you can’t keep letting him treat you like this. You don’t deserve it.”

Dean nodded, “I know,” he lied.

Dean was asleep on Cas’s bed less than an hour later, unaware that Cas stayed up and watched over him the entire night.

\- - - -

“It ain’t right, kid.” Gabriel told Dean that morning when he and Castiel went down for breakfast. “You can’t be letting people treat you like this.”

Dean just nodded and apologized for bothering them so late. Gabriel just waved him off and passed over a stack of pancakes.

Castiel, not wanting to say anything bad about John, for Dean’s sake, but also not disagreeing with Gabriel, failed to comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic Violence (John punches Dean).
> 
> John being a dick.
> 
> Dean kinda defending his attacker.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See End Notes for warnings.

The next time it happens is also the last. Castiel makes sure of it.

It had only been a couple months since the first time John had raised a fist against his eldest child, and despite his attempts to avoid his children altogether when he was drinking – which, truly, he was drunk most of the time – Castiel knew it would escalate again.

Castiel had been standing on the porch of the Winchester home on a random Saturday. Dean had called him earlier that morning, insisting that Castiel ‘just had to try the burgers they have at this little place in Kansas City’ because it would ‘literally change your life, Cas and it’s not even an hour’s drive from here’.

No sooner had he stepped onto the edge of the property then the sounds of a patented ‘John Winchester Drunken Rant‘ filled his ears. By the time he’d stepped up to the porch, he knew this argument was particularly bad.

Castiel’s hearing, while nothing compared to a full-fledged angel’s, was advanced enough that he could tell what was going on beyond the door clearly as if he’d been in the room with them. If he’d concentrated, he could almost sense the general location of the occupants. At the very least, he knew they were in living room, just beyond the foyer.

From what he could tell, only Dean and John were currently in the residence, which wasn’t all that surprising. Castiel knew Dean would never have allowed a fight to escalate to this degree if Sam was around.

“Stop! You can’t keep- We’re all we _have_.” The frustration and barely contained _pain_ in Dean’s voice was enough to break Castiel’s heart. “You can’t keep pushing Sam and me away, because one day we might stop coming back!”

The sound of a firm punch to the jaw sent a fizzle of rage through Castiel’s body. He didn’t need to be an angel to know that John had just struck Dean across the face, and the quiet cracking sound told him that Dean’s bone had split, if not broken. That was enough to have Castiel gripping the doorknob tightly and forcing the lock undone – he would be proud of himself, later, for turning it on the first try.

John had apparently escalated to the point where he no longer cared if there was an audience. Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed Castiel forcing the door.

Castiel had enough time to catch the tail end of the argument.

“-and if you care so damn much about keeping the family together maybe- then- what about your mother, huh?” John speech was slurred, but unfortunately not enough to obscure what he was saying. “Where‘r you then?” John shook him with the hand gripping his face. “Maybe if you’d been such a damn _saint_ back _then_ , she’d ’ve stuck ‘round! Maybe then- maybe she wouldn’t be dead!”

When he rounded the corner, John had backed Dean up against the back of the couch, one hand twisted in Dean’s t-shirt, the other hovering next to Dean’s face, as if John wasn’t sure what to do with it now that he’d struck him.

The silence that filled the room after John finished was deafening. Had it not been for Dean’s choked back sob, Castiel may have believed that he had gone deaf with his rage.

Both men were breathing heavily. John, especially, seemed to have difficulty catching his breath. Dean’s face was twisted up in an angry grimace – as much as it could be without putting pressure on the wound – but it was the hurt in his eyes that told Castiel this needed to stop.

“John Winchester.” Castiel said, grateful now for his deep, grated voice.

Both Winchesters jerked their heads to face him. Castiel knew Dean would be begging him not to get involved, had he been able to move his jaw, but Castiel was finished with leniency. For now, all he could think of was his childhood promise. He’d told Mary he’d take care of him. He’d told Gabriel he’d chosen Dean. That Dean would be his charge and that he would protect him to the best of his capabilities.

It was time he made good on his promise.

Eyes locked onto the elder Winchester, Castiel approached him with a strength and authority not typically befitting the average sixteen-year-old. Before John could form a coherent protest, Castiel had him by the throat, dislodging him from where he’d still been gripping Dean. Years ago, John would have never gone down so easily, but the frankly alarming amount of alcohol in his system made him slow.

Keeping his grip on John’s throat, Castiel was able to walk John backwards until his shoulder hit the wall before John made any attempt to push or claw at the offending hand.

Undeterred by John’s flailing, Castiel continued to feign ignorance of Dean’s weak attempts to get his attention – with the damage to his mouth, attempts to speak were no doubt very painful; Castiel wished he wouldn’t try.

In the interest of resolving this situation as quickly as possible, and making sure it was something John would remember tomorrow, Castiel cleared just enough alcohol from his system to be sure his point stuck. He may not be an angel yet, but this he could do.

“John Winchester,” he said again, keeping his voice low enough that Dean, who was still leaning against the couch, couldn’t hear. “If you ever lay a hand on one of your sons again, I will personally tear them from your arms.” John’s only response was to narrow his eyes, but the fear in them told Castiel that he was listening. “You may not be interested in their wellbeing, but _I am_ and I am far passed tolerating this abuse. From now on you will treat Dean with the respect he deserves.” Castiel held long enough for the words to sink in, squeezing slightly before letting go and stepping back.

John wavered at the loss of support, his knees giving out on him. Castiel watched as he slid down the wall and sat on the ground, looking up at Castiel with a mix of rage and fear.

“Until your intent is to apologize, you will stay away from Dean.” Castiel growled, and with that he turned his back on John.

He took a deep, calming breath stalked over to Dean, trying to quell his rage enough to where he would upset him further. “Let’s go, Dean.”

It was a testament to Dean’s emotional state that he didn’t argue. He took one last look at John, who was still curled up on the floor, before nodding.

Gabriel wasn’t home when they got back to the house, so Castiel sat Dean on the stool in their kitchen and decided to check the injury himself. He was not a child anymore, and though he had yet to come into the kind of power Gabriel had, Dean was still _his_ charge, and therefore it was Castiel’s responsibility to protect him. Something he hadn’t been doing too well, it seemed.

Castiel placed his palm against the base of his jaw, softly enough that it wouldn’t hurt. Dean winced anyway, but he didn’t protest.

Inspecting the wound with his grace, Castiel determined that Dean’s jawbone had been cracked, but not broken, and he’d have a fairly nasty bruise for a while after. Castiel couldn’t heal the wound entirely – and it would be far too suspicious if he did – but he could at least mend the bone and ease the pain somewhat. It didn’t sit well with him, Dean being in pain. Castiel only wished he’d stepped in sooner.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Castiel told him, allow a tiny pulse of his grace to seep into Dean’s face through his palm. Dean exhaled at the new warmth and pressed slightly harder against Castiel, but otherwise he didn’t seem to notice anything odd.

Castiel allowed his hand to linger a bit longer before sliding it away. His voice, when he spoke again, was softer than he’d intended, but Dean was so shook up he didn’t call him out on it.

“Would you like me to take you to the hospital, Dean?”

Dean shook his head, as Castiel knew he would, and looked down for a moment before meeting Castiel’s gaze. He worked his jaw back and forth slowly a couple times before saying through clenched teeth, “no, I think I’m okay. It’s not as bad as I’d thought. Just sore.” Castiel graciously ignored the fact that eyes were shining.

He looked so defeated, Castiel nearly went after John and made good on his threats. But even if it might make him feel better, it wouldn’t help Dean. He knew Dean would be alright, physically, and Sam would get to the bottom of his fight with John once he sees the bruise on his brother’s cheek. The least Castiel could do was provide a distraction. He’d done enough, for today.

Nodding, Castiel reached out and gripped Dean’s arm, squeezing slightly. “Would you like to come back to the living room? We can play Call of Duty and you can accuse me of cheating.” When all he got back was a blank stare, Castiel tried another tactic, “and I think Gabriel was going to make milkshakes, when he gets back?”

Castiel was relieved to see Dean perk up slightly. Gabriel’s milkshakes were ‘the best damn thing next to pie’ as Dean had stated on multiple occasions, and Castiel was confident that Gabriel would indulge Dean’s sweet tooth, given the circumstances. They may butt heads more often than not, but Gabriel cared about Dean.

“Yeah, Cas,” he mumbled, still trying not to move his jaw too much. “That sounds great.”

\- - - -

For the next month, Dean and Sam stayed with Castiel.

Gabriel was remarkably well behaved about the whole thing, requiring very little explanation before nodding and saying, with feigned exasperation:

“Yeah, Cassie, your humans can stay here.”

He’d acted put-upon, whining that he’d have to watch himself in front of the Winchesters, but Castiel saw the way Gabriel’s jaw clenched at the mention of John and the way he encouraged the normal banter between himself and Dean especially. They got a lot of milkshakes, that first week.

Even Inias stuck around more than usual, often sitting with Sam while they did their homework and asking Dean to teach him how to fix his broken radio. Inias probably could have fixed the radio on his own, it was not beyond the abilities of even a fledgling angel, but Castiel appreciated Inias’s attempts to distract Dean.

Sam, as Castiel expected, had been furious that first night, after Dean told him what had happened; cursing John with words no twelve-year-old should know, before collapsing against Dean’s chest and crying ‘like the big girl he was’, (according to Dean).

Dean had called Bobby to informed him what happened, that ‘yes, he was alright’ and ‘yes, he and Sam had a place to stay’. Both Castiel and Gabriel had met Bobby on several occasions, and after a brief conversation with Gabriel Bobby agreed that staying there would be best, and that he would stop by after he looked in on John.

When Bobby did stop by later that night, he was loaded down with several bags of Sam and Dean’s belongings.

Castiel, Inias, Dean, and Sam watched from the living room as Bobby passed off the luggage, before disappearing into the kitchen with Gabriel. Dean seemed deeply interested in what Bobby had to say, but surprisingly he made no move to follow them, instead insisting that they should ‘watch a damn movie or something’, since ‘all this attention was making him feel like a battered housewife’.

No one mentioned how close to the truth that statement was. Sam just turned and flipped on the television, scrolling through the channels before settling on a station showing old _Batman_ reruns.

Unlike the humans, Castiel, (and Inias), could hear the conversation taking place in the other room. He caught the gist of what Bobby was saying, that he had looked in on John and found him crying in the bathroom with a vicious bruise on his neck. When Gabriel admitted that Castiel had attacked John in Dean’s defense Bobby seemed surprised.

“That beanpole threw around the big bad John Winchester?” Bobby whistled lowly. “Shit John must’a been worse off than I’d thought.”

“Kid’s stronger than he looks,” Gabriel said with a hint of pride in his voice.

“I’ll bet.”

Bobby had once again offered to take the kids with him, but Gabriel shot that idea down before Castiel had a chance to run in there and protest. They still needed to go to school, Gabriel reasoned, and it wasn’t as if Sam and Dean weren’t here all the time anyway.

Gabriel also refused Bobby’s attempts to give him money. Gabriel didn’t say so, but being an angel meant not really needing to pay for things, and even having a two extra mouths to feed wouldn’t affect Gabriel’s nonexistent bank account in the slightest.

Bobby left not long after that. Pausing long enough to inspect Dean’s injured face with a grimace.

“Idjit.” Was all he said about it, but the tone was fond.

He promised to take care of John and keep them updated, and with that he left.

\- - - -

One night during that month, Dean was curled up on Cas’s bed, almost to tears for the first time since the fight with John.

He and Sam had gotten into it earlier that day. Dean couldn’t remember what had started it, but it escalated pretty quickly into shit about John. Sam hated how Dean would defend him, saying that he wasn’t keeping the family together by letting John get away with murder. It was so reminiscent of what John had said, that Dean tried too hard to keep the family together, that he was ultimately going to fail. Already had.

Dean had stomped off in the middle of the argument, unable to listen to Sam call their father, ‘abusive’ and ‘pathetic’, especially since he was _right_. He’d stormed upstairs to Cas’s room – which was blissfully empty – and slammed the door shut.

The moment he was alone, his anger left him in a rush, leaving only a sense of loss and frustration.

Flicking the lock on the door, Dean stumbled forward and collapsed on Cas’s bed.

He’d never say it out loud, but Sam was becoming a lot more like their father every day. He had that same righteous indignation John got whenever someone tried to tell him what to do. That same passion that made it difficult for him to see anything from someone else’s point of view. When they fought Sam refused to even consider the situation from John’s point of view, ignoring the fact was their father was hurting too. Even Dean could admit John hadn’t handled the situation well, but that didn’t mean he deserved to be condemned for it. Sam just didn’t understand that.

Now he was locked in Cas’s room, lying on his side facing the wall, feeling sorry for himself.

He’d been there less than an hour before he heard Cas come in – apparently the door wasn’t locked, seems Dean couldn’t even do _that_ right – but he didn’t move. Hopefully, Cas would think he was asleep and go back downstairs.

No such luck, it seemed. He heard Cas walk up and stand at the edge of the bed.

“Go away, Cas.” Dean mumbled.

“Sam just doesn’t like seeing you get hurt, Dean.” Cas said, ignoring Dean’s request and instead stabbing at the heart of the matter. “He loves you.”

Dean rolled his eyes even though Cas couldn’t see it. “If he loved me so much he wouldn’t fight with me.”

Cas sighed as if he thought Dean was being unreasonable. Dean was just about to tell him he didn’t need Cas’s concern and maybe he could just have a damn moment alone, when he felt the bed dip as Cas climbed on top of it.

Dean tried to scoot away to give him room. They’d shared a bed before, but now that they were sixteen, they didn’t fit in the narrow space as well as they used to.

But it seemed Cas had other plans. Instead of just lying beside Dean, he moved forward and pressed his chest up against Dean’s back, and tucking his knees against the back of Dean’s legs. It wasn’t until he felt Cas curl an arm around his chest, hand pressing in just above his heart, that he realized what Cas was happening.

“Cas!” Dean yelped indignantly. He tried to turn around and look at him, but Cas only held on tighter, “what’re you doing?”

“I thought it’d be obvious, Dean,” he said pushing his forehead against the back of Dean’s neck, “I’m comforting you.”

Realizing Cas wasn’t about to let up – and remembering that he was freakishly strong for skinny kid – Dean laid back down but didn’t relax.

“Cas, dudes don’t _spoon_ man. It’s weird.”

Dean could literally hear the eye roll in Cas’s voice. “No one’s going to see you, Dean. Quit complaining.”

“Cas-“

“You’re not going to win this one, Dean.” And, oh god, Cas started rubbing his hand across Dean’s chest and belly. “Now quit your male posturing and tell me what happened.”

For a long time Dean kept quiet. He wasn’t one to share his feelings, a fact of which Cas was well aware, especially to a guy who was friggin’ _spooning_ him.

But it wasn’t just any ‘guy’. This was Cas, who had been with him since his parent’s divorce. Cas who was friends with Dean even when Dean raged at him and pushed him away. The same Cas that had granted him and his brother sanctuary the countless times John had become unbearable over the years. If there was anyone who Dean could trust to not to judge him, it was _Cas._

Still, he hadn’t done a lot of ‘opening up’ in his life, and finding the words were difficult. All the while, Cas kept rubbing soothing circles across his stomach. He’d never admit out loud but it really did make him feel better. Despite himself he couldn’t help but relax the tension from his shoulders.

“Sam got mad at me for defending John.” Dean mumbled. Cas’s head pressed a little closer, so that Dean could feel his breath against the back of his neck, but otherwise he didn’t comment. “I mean, I-I know what he did was bad, but. He’s still _family_.” And there he was, tearing up again. God, he was pathetic.

He must have said that last part out loud because Cas hugged him tighter and said, “you’re not pathetic, Dean. You put too much responsibility on yourself. You’re only sixteen. The state of your family is not on your shoulders, and nothing excuses your father for letting you feel that way.”

“That’s what I hate, Cas. Everyone else seems to think I should hate him. You, Sam, Gabriel. Hell, even _Inias_ shoots me dirty looks when I mention John.” Dean stared blindly at his hands where they were curled in front of his face. He was suddenly really glad Cas wasn’t facing him while he did this. “I can’t stand- I hate being the only one who doesn’t want to abandon him.

“And-and he’s really not bad all time. He was sober, occasionally, and when he was he’d always apologize. He’d make dinner and he’d laugh and he’d promise to be around more.

“I just-Bobby hasn’t told me much. Just that he was keeping an eye on him and they were ‘working it out’.”

Cas was silent after the end of Dean’s little speech, his hand falling still on Dean’s chest. Had it been anyone else Dean would be expecting to be shoved away in frustration. He knew how he sounded; like some kind of domestic violence victim who kept going back to their abuser because they’d ‘promised that this time they’d _change_ ’, (which was probably true), but he also thought that nothing was more important than your family. And if you couldn’t trust them to stick by you then you might as well be alone.

“I’m sorry we’ve made you feel that way, Dean. We just hate seeing you hurt, because you’re _our_ family too.”

Dean didn’t know how to respond to that one.

But it seemed Cas didn’t expect him to. He just relaxed against Dean’s back, pulling a blanket from god knows where and settling it over them, officially christening this moment as ‘the gayest thing Dean Winchester’s ever done’.

Still, he couldn’t deny that he was comfortable. And Cas was probably the only person on Earth Dean would allow to do this.

The stress of the last couple hours caught up with him, and as much as he convinced himself that he was about to get up, Dean could feel his eyelids drooping. It was still the middle of the afternoon, but Dean was really tired, there was a warm weight at his back, Cas’s hand had resumed its gentle caressing, lulling Dean unwittingly into a doze.

Before Dean realized what was happening, he had already fallen asleep.

\- - - -

John showed up with Bobby after school one day.

They had all been in the kitchen while Gabriel made dinner. Sam and Inias were working on a project of some sort, Dean had listened as far as ‘diorama’ and ‘founding fathers’ before his interest was completely lost. Instead he took to throwing bits of paper at the nerds while Castiel rolled his eyes next to him.

Dean was content during days like these, where they could all sit around in a room together and act like a _family_. Even if Inias, and Gabriel weren’t technically his, (and he wished his mom and dad could be here), this was still something he’d missed. There hadn’t been a lot of peaceful family moments like this. Not since the mom. Not since the divorce.

And, really, Dean should have known his quiet contentment wouldn’t last.

Dean had been in the process of rearranging random bits of Sam’s supplies while he wasn’t looking. Sam was ridiculously organized when it came to homework, and Dean learned early on that moving so much as an eraser from one side of the table to the next was enough to raise Sam’s hackles. So, of course, he did this _all the time_.

Dean had just tucked a pair of scissors beneath the stack construction paper when the doorbell rang. He looked up at Gabriel, since it was his house, but he was just standing there, midway through adding random spices to the pasta he was making, and staring towards the front door. He had an odd expression on his face almost like he was upset, but it cleared by the time he turned and looked first at Castiel, then Dean.

Dean was surprised when Gabriel said, “Dean, why don’t you and Sam grab the door for me?”

Dean exchanged a look with Sam but nodded. By the time he saw who it was, Dean’s stomach had dropped.

John stood on the doorstep, looking pale and not a little pathetic, but sober. Dean hated to think it, but he kind of resented his father for breaking the peaceful moment from before.

Bobby was standing just behind John, and when Dean turned to him he gave them a warm smile (or, at least, as warm as Bobby ever gets).

“How ya doin’, boy?”

“Uh,” Dean’s gaze shifted from his father and back, flexing his jaw at the phantom ache that reminded Dean of the last time he saw Bobby. “Um, good. We’re good.”

The silence that fell after that was tense. No one seemed to know what to say, though Dean had to wonder if he was the only one interested in breaking it. Sam was seething next to him, Dean didn’t have to look at him to know. John looked lost and Bobby looked like he was fully prepared to stand on this porch all damn day.

Which apparently wasn’t the case because after nearly a minute of silence, Bobby leaned forward and shoved at John’s shoulder.

“Go on, Winchester, ain’t got all day do we?”

John clenched his teeth but didn’t argue, which was surprising in itself.

“I’m in rehab.” John said, looking between Sam and Dean without making eye contact with either. “For the alcohol,” he added, pointlessly.

Sam had tensed up next to him, though he thankfully stayed quiet. Dean really couldn’t handle it if this dissolved into a shouting match.

Bobby nudged John again, who rolled his eyes before continuing. “I have been for the last two weeks. Bobby got rid of all the alcohol in the house and,” John swallowed, still not looking at his kids, “I’ve been going to _meetings_ and trying to stop.”

Dean nodded, embarrassed by how shaky his voice was when he said, “tha-that’s great.” John almost smiled.

Dean knew everyone was listening from the kitchen, Gabriel in particular was being far too quiet, but Dean appreciated that they didn't hover. His dad especially would not want to think he had an audience.

“I’m not asking you to come back now,” John continued, ignoring Sam’s indignant noise, as if the idea that he would come back was ridiculous. “ _But_ I’m hoping it’s something you’ll consider. And that,” he turned and looked Dean in the eye for the first time since arriving, “you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“C’mon, John, don’t half ass it.”

John practically growled at Bobby but he kept looking at Dean. “I didn’t mean what I said while I was, well, _before_ , alright? I wanted to hurt you and it was stupid.” He gritted his teeth. “You’re the only reason we’re a family at all.”

It wasn’t technically an apology, but it was head and shoulders above anything Dean thought he’d get.

Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms around John and held tight. “Thanks, dad. I’m really proud of you.”

John barely hesitated before returning the embrace, it was a bit tense, but Dean didn’t care.

When he pulled away, John turned to Sam and they just stared at each other, Sam looking furious and John contrite, but no less irritated.

“Guys.” Dean said when it seemed like no one was going to do anything.

Dean’s voice seemed to have broken whatever staring contest John and Sam were having. Sam turned to look at Dean, searching his face for _something_ before sighing heavily.

Sam stepped forward and gave John one of the stiffest, most uncomfortable hugs Dean had ever seen.

“Good to see you.” Sam said awkwardly, as John’s hands reached up to return the embrace.

Even though they pulled away from each other almost immediately, Dean couldn’t stop the relieved smile from spreading across his face.

Once Sam had stepped back next to Dean, Bobby took the opportunity to shove his way forward. He give both brothers a friendly smile before clapping them on their shoulders and inviting himself into Gabriel’s home.

“I think I’m gonna have a chat with Gabe while y’all ‘r having your family pow-wow.”

Gabriel ended up inviting John and Bobby in for dinner – to Dean’s surprise, assuring them that there was plenty enough to go around. Dean had been skeptical, but apparently Gabriel _had_ made a lot because both he and Sam and two helpings and there was still a lot left over.

This was one thing Dean appreciated about Gabriel, though he’d never admit it. Unlike most people Dean knew, Gabriel was hard to rattle. No matter how tense the situation he always seemed immune to it. Gabriel bustled about through most of dinner, making sure everyone was fed, cracking jokes, and teasing everyone mercilessly whenever the tension in the room got too heavy.

Cas was especially worried, Dean could tell, though he didn’t say anything about it and for that Dean was grateful. Still, he couldn’t help but notice all the sidelong looks Cas would send him, and the way he was practically plastered to Dean’s side the entire meal, scooting his chair close enough to Dean’s that the whole side of their bodies kept brushing together while they ate. If anyone else noticed anything odd, they didn’t mention it, though Bobby did give Cas a lingering look once, when John had made a casual reference to their mother and Cas, without looking at him, leaned over and deliberately pressed their shoulders together.

Dean couldn’t deny he appreciated Cas’s concern, and as long as no one tried to say shit about it, Dean was content to just enjoy it.

When Bobby and John made to leave, Sam and Dean hugged both of them. Gabriel had agreed that he’d ‘put up with Winchesters as long as he needed to’, and that was that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic Violence in which John kind of breaks Dean's jaw (Castiel fixes it a bit though).
> 
> John's a dick.
> 
> Castiel threatens John and gets physically violent with him.
> 
> Platonic Cuddling.
> 
> Dean Cries.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean’s relationship with John was still rocky, but for the most part his father had indeed straightened up his life.

John’s AA was a struggle for everyone. He’d have good days and bad, and in the coming years he’d fall off the wagon more than once. But he’d always come back. He’d always try again. And he never once raised a hand to Sam or Dean again.

By the time Dean graduated high school he was comfortable enough with the idea of leaving Sam with their father. Knowing full well that if things got bad, Sam could always go to Gabriel’s.

Dean and Cas had gone off to college together, choosing to stay close to home so Dean didn’t have to leave Sam. They never said anything about it, but when Cas came to Dean one day and asked if they were applying to Kansas State together Dean knew the reason why. He had tried to convince Cas to apply to other schools. Cas, like Sam, was freakishly smart, and though he was careful not to flaunt his intelligence in front of Dean, they both knew Cas could literally go _anywhere_ he wanted.

But no matter what Dean said, Cas’s mind was made up, and so, the August after they graduated high school, Dean and Cas packed up and moved into the KU dorms together.

They’d graduated four years later, just in time to send Sam off to his own college. Sam had, not unexpectedly, excelled in high school, earning the title of Valedictorian which Dean reacted to with a mix of pride and endless teasing.

When Sam got accepted to Stanford with a full ride, Dean was ready to face the reality that he and his brother had to separate, (in that he was actually not ready _at all_ ). He and Sam had nearly lived out of each other’s pockets for years, and of all the family Dean had left, only Sam – and Cas – had never truly left him.

Of course his worry hadn’t lasted long. Cas, who had spent last December applying to countless graduate schools, informed Dean that he, too, had gotten into Stanford and did he think that Sam would feel smothered if he attended there as well?

Sam had been _thrilled_ at the knowledge that Cas would be attending the same school as him, practically throwing himself forward and wrapping his gigantic arms around Cas. Sam had hit a pretty intense growth spurt during his sophomore year, and now he literally towered over the rest of them. Gabriel especially seemed all but dwarfed by Sam’s height, and he spent most of his time compensating for the difference by teasing Sam mercilessly.

Watching Sam practically lift Cas off the ground had Dean grinning like a loon. Thrilled that, through it all, he’d managed to keep his family together.

Any concern Dean might have felt about tagging along was completely smothered when his brother looked up at him, still not letting go of Cas, and said, “you’re coming too, right Dean?”

So that’s how Dean and Cas found themselves renting a small apartment in Stanford, CA three years later. Dean had managed to get a decent job with his mechanical engineering degree, and he was currently toying with the idea of getting his Master’s degree next year, and possibility which Cas encouraged wholeheartedly.

Sam was currently working towards law school. He’d just moved in with his girlfriend of almost a year and a half, a cute girl named Jessica who Dean insisted was far too good for his Sasquatch of a brother.

Cas had been studying to get his PhD in psychology, balancing his time between teaching college and writing his dissertation.

They still kept in touch with everyone back home. Gabriel was still living on the same street, though Inias had gone off to study in New York a few years ago. Dean had heard Gabriel was seeing some girl names Kali, though he hadn’t had the chance to meet her yet. Cas assured him they’d go home and visit everyone for Christmas.

John had moved out of that house less than a month after Sam moved away. Dean wasn’t surprised.

His father was now dating a nurse he’d met during his stint in rehab. Her name was Kate Mulligan. Dean had talked to her on the phone a couple times and she’d seemed nice enough. She had a son that John seemed pretty taken with, and though it was difficult, Dean swallowed his jealousy for his father’s sake and focused instead on the face that he was happy and sober.

Bobby still called Dean often, and assured him that John was indeed doing just fine.

All in all, his life had turned out better than he could have ever hoped. His family was spread out, these days, but it wasn’t broken. And no matter what he still had Sam. And he’d always have Cas.


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel had never told Dean the truth about being an angel. All though high school and college he’d intended to, he truly had, but despite Gabriel and Inias’s warnings he kept putting it off and putting it off. Waiting for the ‘right moment’ without being sure what the ‘right moment’ was.

But now, nearly nineteen years after they met, Castiel is twenty-six and out of time.

He’d known this was coming, he’s been half-expecting it for the last few years, but part of him never really _believed_ it would happen. Were it not for the songs in his head and the strength in his hands he might have been able to convince himself he was just another human, stressed out by bills and his future and where he was going to work after college.

But this? This was undeniable. And it had the potential to destroy him.

The signs started up about a week and a half ago. Moving to Stanford with Dean had been the greatest decision he had ever made, but it created issues in that it separated him from the other angels. He didn’t have Inias around to ask him what he’s feeling, or Gabriel to laugh and tell him he was finally growing up. They both would have recognized the signs for what they were. Gabriel may be old, but he knew what ‘angelic puberty’ looked like, and Inias had never had cause to reject his species, so even though his brother had not acquired his own wings, he’d have known what was happening to Castiel.

He’d ignored the itching for what it was, convincing himself it was dry skin or a rash and resolving to look into it later, always later. Until suddenly ‘later’ was ‘now’.

The only small blessing was that he was alone when it happened.

Dean had gone with Sam to the Roadhouse that night, and though they had invited Castiel to come along, he had politely declined. Unsurprisingly, Sam had called him four hours later, letting Castiel know Dean was ‘drunk off his ass’ and that he’d sleep it off at Sam and Jess’s that night, no need to come get him. Castiel, who was by this time slathering lotion on his back and contemplating finding a nice tree to rub against, had been grateful for the privacy.

His sleep that night had been fitful, rot with discomfort and horribly vivid dreams that ultimatley had him bursting into wakefulness feeling none of the disorientation that he expected.

When he awoke as the singing in his head rose to a crescendo, simultaneously overwhelming and calming him. It was the same sound he had heard growing up, but now he could literally hear each one of his brothers’ and sisters’ individual songs. He lay there, listening to Hestor steady singing in Germany, to Gabriel’s lively song back in Kansas. Even angels he’d never met in person, he _knew_ now. He knew the gentle sound of Anael where she sang in southern Kentucky, and Uriel – another young angel – singing baritone back in Heaven. He had not elected to stay on Earth after gaining his wings.

And now Castiel would have wings of his own, (though he’d yet to check), and the same decision to make. He knew what he wanted, but without a host, without a human to bond with, he would not be able to remain on Earth. He curled his body in slightly where he was lying on his stomach, burying his face in his pillow and trying to ignore the weight on his back.

He let out a shaky breath and forced himself calm – which was remarkably easier than he expected. Despite the tremors making his hands and legs unsteady, he was able to obtain some semblance of stillness, and it was with a thrilling mix of anticipation and terror that he opened his eyes and turned his head.

Castiel had spent many nights over the years lying awake and envisioning his wings. He had only ever seen Gabriel’s unhidden, and the occasional impression of other angels’ as he’d pass them on the street, so he felt very much unprepared for what he’d find.

His first thought was how _large_ they were. His right wing was scrunched up against his back, unable to fully extend from where it was pressed against the wall. His left wing, however, was extended as far as possible in the tiny room. The feathers at the tips of his wings curled inward against the far wall, eliciting slight discomfort.

They were easily the darkest wings he’s ever seen on an angel. The topmost feathers a slate gray bordering on black and as his eyes traveled lower the feathers dusted off into a deep, shimmery blue, specks of icy white at the tips.

He braced himself on the bed and pushed up, surprised at how easily he moved. The wings responded to his movements with the same fluidity that his body did, moving and adjusting within the tiny room to balance his weight so he could maneuver into a sitting position. This way, the wings curled in front of him and it was all too easy to reach out and touch.

The feathers were indescribably soft, to the point that he almost couldn’t feel them at all. It was less a like touching a physical object, and more like placing his hand over a steaming pot. Energy pulsed from the feathers reminding him of when they’d studied electrical currents in the eighth grade. Even though the wings seemed soft and unassuming, Castiel could feel the unbridled power brimming under the surface. With a twitch of his back he could use them as a weapon just as easily as for warmth or transport.

The wings weren’t the only thing that had changed.

He could also feel the individual strands of threads in his sheets, and name each type of fabric that made up his shirt. Everything was so vivid.

Castiel had always been unusually attuned to the world – compared to humans at least. Before he could pinpoint the general location of those he was close to. He knew when Gabriel would leave Earth, (presumably to go to Heaven), or when Inias was at school or visiting a friend. Not long after he met the Winchesters, he was able to find them too.

Now it was different.

Now Castiel knew _exactly_ where Dean was. He could almost feel him moving around Sam’s kitchen, and if he focused he knew Dean was sitting at the table with Sam, pushing his eggs around the plate with one hand while his other gripped a glass of water. He was in pain, the kind of pain expected from a Winchester hangover, and Castiel had the sudden realization that if he wanted to he could fly to Dean right now. Appear in Sam’s kitchen and heal him.

Castiel leaned forward slowly, careful not to jostle his wings too much, and plucked his cell phone off of the bedside table. Logically, he knew he could have summoned the phone to him, with little more than a twitch of his hand and a relay of intention, but he wasn’t ready for that, not yet. It was all too new, overnight _everything_ had changed. He was still in somewhat of a panic, and the only thing he can think to do was call Gabriel.

The phone barely rang once before Gabriel picked up.

“Well, well,” Gabriel’s grin was evident in his voice, “if it isn’t my little Cassie all grown up.”

Gabriel’s words, though annoying, calmed him somewhat. He needn’t forget this happened to _every_ angel. It was part of growing up and not a cause for panic.

Not until Dean got home anyway.

“Chill out, Castiel.” Gabriel deadpanned, no doubt understanding exactly where his thoughts had gone. “It’s gonna be fine, kid. You knew this day was coming.” His voice turned teasing, “I still remember that day you came home to tell me about the boy with the pretty soul, and how you two were just going to be the best of friends, you were sure of it.”

Castiel sighed shakily, despite the overwhelming changes, it was Dean’s reaction he worried most about, and the request Castiel planned to make of him. He should have been better prepared for this.

“But,” Castiel swallowed. He trusted Gabriel unerringly and while he knew the elder angel’s demeanor wasn’t particularly soft or comforting, Gabriel cared for him and would make the effort to understand if Castiel needed it. “I never told Dean. He,” Castiel hesitated before trailing off in a whisper, voicing the one fear he had about all this, “he hates angels.”

When Gabriel responded his voice was gentler even if his words were not. “Maybe, but he loves you.” Gabriel scoffed. “The kid may be a damn martyr but he doesn’t abandon his family. Even when he should,” Gabriel mumbled, no doubt thinking of John. “He wouldn’t throw you away any sooner than he’d abandon that yeti brother of his.”

Castiel wasn’t so sure.

When Castiel still didn’t respond Gabriel let out a very put-upon sigh. “Dammit, Cassie, just _call_ him. Have him come over, tell him the truth, and then bond like the little BFFs you are. All this schoolyard drama is making me sick.” Castiel heard the distant rustling he had learned at a young age to equate to the opening of a candy bar. “Get on with it would ya? And let me know how it goes!”

Before he could bother responding a dial tone filled his ear, and the distant hum of Gabriel’s encouragement resounded across their connection, still present within his mind, but infinitely stronger now.

He dropped his hands to his lap and stared at his phone for a long time. From the corner of his eyes, he could see his wings instinctively flex and twitch in response to his mood – or their still slightly cramped position. The intricate colors blended and shimmered, changing so gradually that Castiel almost didn’t noticea until an entire patch of wing had altered. He could imagine himself being endlessly fascinated with them. Watching them grow and change as he did.

He wondered if Dean would like them.

Inexplicably, Castiel felt somewhat better after talking with his brother. Perhaps it was some form of Stockholm syndrome, wherein he has learned to accept Gabriel’s unique brand of comfort despite it not being particularly comforting at all, but he felt slightly more prepared to talk to Dean, now. Gabriel was right. Despite whatever prejudices Dean may have, he held family above all else. And Castiel was family, he assured himself, Dean had said so many times.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Castiel clicked the image of Dean’s face in his quick-dial contacts, (it was really a picture of the two of them, that year they went with Sam to the Grand Canyon because Sam had always wanted to go, but worried that, once he started college, he wouldn’t have enough free time to travel anymore).

He could _feel_ Dean picking up the phone before the man even answered.

Dean didn’t bother with greetings. “Whatever Sam told you, I’m not hungover, I swear.” His voice was gravelly in a way that rivaled Castiel’s own, and even over the phone Castiel could tell he had his head bent over the table. Though that might just be an angel thing.

Despite himself, Castiel smiled. He knew better, but decided not to call Dean out on his fib, Dean knew Castiel wouldn’t buy it. And, anyway, they had more important things to discuss.

“Good morning, Dean.” Castiel said. “I was just wondering when you’d be back.”

“Uh,” He could feel the way Dean looked over at the oven to check the time. In his mind, Dean’s movements were a clear image as if he were seeing it all happen in real time. As if he were there. “I don’t suppose you can come get me?” He sounded so hopeful that for a moment Castiel contemplated flying over to Dean and bringing him home right then.

“I, uh,” Castiel cleared his throat, “I can’t, actually. I’m at the apartment and, I,” this was harder than he thought it’d be. He turned and stared at his right wing where it was now curled completely in front of him, the feathers fluttering slightly in betrayal of his nervousness. “I need you here.” Castiel realized how odd that sounded and added, “I need to talk to you.”

Dean was standing in an instant. Castiel knew this not just because he was attuned to Dean at the moment, but because he heard the telltale clatter of the kitchen chair as he knocked it over, and Dean’s miserable groan in response to the unforgiving wave of nausea that accompanied quick movements. Castiel had only ever managed to get drunk once, Dean always said he had a ‘superman-ly high alcohol tolerance’ (he was often drunk when he said this), and needless to say Castiel had not enjoyed the morning after experience.

“What? What’s wrong?” Dean said urgently even as he doubled over, bracing a hand on the kitchen table and squeezing his eyes shut. “You okay? What happened?”

“No, Dean, I’m _fine_. I just need to talk to you about…something. And unfortunately I can’t leave the apartment. Can you come here? Please?”

Dean was already halfway to putting his boots on, “yeah, sure, Cas. Okay. On my way.” He heard Dean tell Sam he was leaving. “This had better be important, man,” Dean tried to joke though Castiel could tell he was nervous, “I feel like shit.”

Castiel’s lip quirked. It was easy to forget his worries when talking to Dean. “I thought you said you weren’t hung over.”

If Dean was feeling better, Castiel was sure he would have laughed. “Shut up, Cas.”

\- - - -

It was testament to Castiel’s new status as an adult that he retained any semblance of calm while waiting for Dean.

He tracked the human’s movements through town restlessly, worried that Dean’s concern and his churning stomach would make him too distracted, though he needn’t have bothered. If there was one thing Dean did well – and truly there were many – it was drive. He would never risk crashing the Impala because he wasn’t paying attention.

By the time Dean was unlocking their apartment door, Castiel was breathing heavily. His wings were literally trembling, and they had both taken to curling around him completely in a makeshift cocoon, which if nothing else allowed them to fit more easily within his bedroom. And he couldn’t deny he felt some sort of comfort from them. Even now as they belied his nervousness, shaking and twitching as they were, he could feel the warm electrical current emanating from each iridescent feather. He reached out and buried both hands in the plumage, relishing the heat it provided to his chilled hands.

“Cas?” Dean called, confusion and concern evident in his voice. “Cas? You here?”

Castiel had to clear his throat before responding: “in here, Dean.”

He pulled his wings apart slightly so he could peer out at the still-closed door to his room. He decided to give his first attempt at using his ‘angel mojo’ a shot, and with barely more than whisper of intent he turned the lock on his bedroom door.

Dean was outside Castiel’s door the next instant. No doubt keyed up and nervous over Castiel’s behavior. He turned the doorknob without knocking and grunted when he found it locked.

“Okay, Cas, I’m here. Open the door. You’re starting to freak me out a little, man.”

“Dean.” Castiel’s wings fluttered loudly enough that Dean had to have heard it. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“Okay, but can you open the door first?”

Castiel ignored him. He had to get this out now and hope that Dean didn’t leave. If Dean left, well, Castiel wasn’t sure he could handle that. “I’m an angel, Dean.”

The resulting silence was deafening. Dean was frozen beyond the door, hand still on the knob. Castiel wrapped his arms and wings around himself, both trembling in in anticipation for the fallout.

“Open the door.” Dean said evenly.

Relief washed over him at the knowledge that Dean _wasn’t leaving_. Even if he only wanted to come in and punch Castiel in the face, at least then Castiel might have a chance to explain himself.

“I wanted to tell you, Dean, I meant to. But, you,” Castiel swallowed heavily, “you hated angels so much and there was never a good time-“

“Castiel.” The use of his full name stunned him into silence. “Open. The door.”

Wings drooping, Castiel unlocked the door with a tilt of his head.

Dean, hearing the click, pushed the door open and stepped into the bedroom.

He took one look at Castiel on the bed, wings still slightly curled in, and stumbled.

“ _Shit_.” Dean swiped a hand across his face and let it hover over his mouth, making his next words slightly muffled. “Cas. Why-You never-”

Castiel didn’t notice Dean’s words, since he was momentarily distracted himself.

Castiel had always been able to see the souls of things, to know their energy and their purity, but only vaguely. More a sensing than actual sight. But _this_ , this was completely different.

Where Castiel had always known Dean’s soul was bright, the knowledge was nothing to actually _seeing_ it when he was in full possession of his angelic senses. Dean’s soul wasn’t just bright, it was resplendent, luminous to the point where it could be completely overwhelming if he let it. Castiel felt the urge to pull Dean up close and wrap him up in his wings forever. To protect him from all the evils and sadness he had faced.

“Cas?”

Castiel shut his mouth here it had fallen open, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes had widened, trying to take in as much of Dean as possible.

“Oh, Dean.” He breathed. “You’re beautiful.”

Despite the situation and the shock still filtering through his system, Dean chuckled nervously. “Uh, what?”

Castiel ignored him, his mind instead on all the angels he’d met over the years. How many had seen Dean. Gabriel and Hannah and who knows how many others had _seen_ his soul the same way Castiel was seeing it now. Any one of them could have taken Dean. His Dean. His human. The idea that Dean walked around in public _every day_ with a soul that glorious made his blood boil. He skirted the knowledge that he might not be permitted jealousy, anymore.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Castiel said trying to focus. He wished he had the words for this, “I wish I had told you.”

Dean’s anger peaked here and he dropped his hand stepping forward but still maintain distance between himself and Castiel. “Yeah, well me too, Cas! We’d been friends for years, man, I’ve known you since I was _eight_! And you never told me anything! You didn’t trust me with this.” He dropped his eyes to the carpet. “You let me say all those shitty things about angels, and, you just-”

Dean sighed and leaned against Castiel’s desk, jostling the books stacked in the corner and knocking a few pens onto the floor. Dean hung his head and slumped his shoulders, breathing heavily and shaking with the realization of Castiel’s dishonesty and the residual pain of his hang over.

Chastising himself for letting Dean suffer this long, on both accounts, Castiel blinked Dean’s hangover pains away, causing Dean to glance up sharply.

Castiel shifted to the end of the bed and dropped his feet to the floor. He was wary of standing, not sure yet about his ability to maneuver through the tight space with his wings as they were. Planting his elbows on his knees Castiel hunched forward, hanging his hands between his legs and his head between his shoulders.

“If you want me to leave, I understand, Dean.” He could feel Dean stiffen at his words but he remained silent so Castiel continued. “Without a link to keep me here, I cannot hide my wings and the angels will not let me remain on Earth.” Dean already knew this, but Castiel felt the need to make it clear. “I can only stay if I bond with a human. With you. There’s no one else because you-” Castiel swallowed, “you are my best friend, Dean and if you do not want me then, I will go.”

“To Heaven, you mean.” Dean’s voice was flat.

Castiel nodded. He would argue, he’d fight to change Dean’s mind, but ultimately if Dean decided to cut ties with him, Castiel would respect that. All in all there was little he could do, impeded by his wings as he was. Without access to a human soul he simply couldn’t hide his wings enough to chase Dean if he left.

Intellectually, he knew he could ask Sam for the bond. It would have been impossible for Castiel to develop a significant relationship with Dean without connecting with Sam also but he couldn’t stand the idea of creating a permanent link between himself and Sam – all the while knowing it was Dean he really wanted.

“You would leave me here?”

Castiel’s head snapped up. Dean had moved closer until he was standing just in front of Castiel. He held himself tightly, every muscle seemingly flexed with tension. The expression on his face was one of pinched indignation, making his lips purse and his eyes narrow. Castiel had seen this expression before, though not usually directed at himself. For a moment they just stared at each other, Castiel still sitting slightly hunched at the end of his bed, while Dean stood over him. The brightness of his soul hummed beneath his skin, making Dean seem all the more magnificent in his anger.

“After everything we’ve been through? You’d just, fly off to Heaven forever?” Castiel opened his mouth to speak but Dean cut him off, “it’s not like you don’t know I’m a dumbass, man. Yeah, maybe I’d tell you to fuck off, but we’d both know I could never mean it. Cas, you-“ Dean clenched his fist once before releasing it, “you’ve been there for me through _everything_. The divorce and-and _Mom_ and then all that shit with John…”

Castiel noted Dean’s hands were shaking as bad as Castiel’s now. The churning mass of emotions within Dean were too thick to properly wade through, and Castiel was having trouble understanding each of them.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save her, Dean.” Castiel whispered, feeling like he had to say something about it, now that he could. “I wanted to, I begged Gabriel, but-“

“I know, Cas,” Dean looked down at their knees where they were just barely brushing together. “I know.”

Castiel was surprised to find that Dean meant it.

A moment of silence stretched out between them before it was finally broken by Dean, once again saying one of the last things Castiel might have expected.

“Can I,” Castiel looked up as, Dean gestured vaguely over Castiel’s shoulders. “Can I touch them?”

Castiel’s surprise must have shown on his face because Dean hastily continued, “I mean, unless that’s weird? I don’t know if they’re like, _personal_ or whatever.”

Truthfully it was personal, but only in the sense that Castiel would never let strangers or unfamiliar angels perceive his wings outside of heaven – much less touch them. To be honest, he had expected a lot more raging by this point, but then maybe that’s his own fault for underestimating Dean.

“It’s fine, Dean.” Castiel said.

Apparently that’s all the permission Dean needed. Without further warning, he reached out both hands and, gently but firmly, brought them down to rest at the top bone of his wings, just behind his shoulder where his they met Castiel’s back. Dean slid his hands across the bone as far up as he could reach, and then smoothed his hands down across the feathers towards the base, eliciting a surprised shiver from Castiel. When Dean noticed he paused, lifting his hands away slightly but not removing them completely, and waited. With less than a thought, Castiel pressed his wings forward and back into Dean’s waiting hands.

Dean got the message, and continued his exploration. Smoothing his hands across every expanse of wing he could reach, examining individual feathers with his fingertips, and taking care not to jostle any out of place. Through it all, he did not move from his spot in front of Castiel, only pressing his knees forward against the angel’s so he could reach higher and keep his balance. Castiel could feel his wonder, but it was muffled beneath his own sensations.

The comfort he had felt when touching his own wings for the first time was absolutely _nothing_ compared to this. Castiel could feel their trust and closeness with every reverent inspection, every time Dean would pause and press against his feathers and watched as the shifted in color. And he knew no one else could make him feel this way. Dean was light and loyalty. He was the grounding force that kept Castiel on this planet, the beacon of sacrifice and love that maintained Castiel’s faith in his Father and humanity – even though Dean didn’t have faith in either.

Castiel vaguely wondered if the wings felt the same to Dean as they did to him. If he felt that ethereal energy that seemed to comprise them. If every stroke against a feather elicited the same warm, almost tangible current; so much like an electrical shock without being like it at all.

Dean chuckled lightly, but he sounded more distracted than humored. “Don’t know how you kept your shirt on with these things,” he said, and proceeded to lean forward and wrap his arms around Castiel’s torso in a mimicry of the countless embraces they’d shared over the years, feeling against the base of his wings for the space where they ducked beneath his pajama top.

Castiel had been about to respond when Dean found the back of his wing and slid his hand directly up it, ruffling the new feathers there and caressing the bone joint in a way that pulled a breathless groan from Castiel’s chest, not expecting to enjoy as much as he did.

Instinctively, Castiel’s wings extended, attempting to pack as much of his wingspan in the tiny space as possible, giving Dean unfettered access to every bit of him. He heard his standing lamp topple over, hitting the desk and office chair before sliding onto the floor – taking a small stack of papers with it. On the other side of the room, several photos dislodged themselves from the collage he fastened to the wall. The old Polaroids and printouts gliding to the floor along with several tacks that had been holding them up. Both he and Dean ignored the destruction.

Dean had jerked back at the movement but refused to dislodge his hands, instead resting them on Castiel’s human shoulders, where only his fingertips reached out and skimmed the feathers just behind.

“Shit. They’re huge,” Dean breathed, taking in the expanse of them.

Castiel tried not to preen and failed, but he kept his voice casual. “They’ll get bigger as I age.”

Dean smiled and shook his head. For a while he just stood there, staring at the wings and thinking, as the smile slowly slid from his face. Castiel kept respectfully quiet, but he was grateful when Dean’s hands slid back into the feathers at his sides and rested there.

“Cas, I,” Dean tore his eyes away from the wings and met Castiel’s gaze. Castiel still didn’t see any of the anger or betrayal he expected. “I – man, you’re my _best friend_. I can’t. I wish you’d told me, but, I mean, I hope you know. I could never hate _you._ ”

“I do, now. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“Yeah, well my track record isn’t that great, I guess.” Dean’s eyes swept over the wings once more before turning back to Castiel. “This bond,” he said, jarring Castiel slightly with the change of subject, “it’s pretty permanent, right?”

Castiel nodded. “Gabriel has been with Kali for many lifetimes. Each time she dies and is reborn, he finds her again. The bond does not fade.”

Dean raised his brow, shifting his weight from foot to foot in a way that Castiel has come to recognize as uncertainty, eyes focused away from his face. “So, we’d be like, angel married?”

Castiel, despite himself, huffed out a laugh, which was rare enough that it brought Dean’s gaze back up to his face.

“No, Dean. Marriage bonding would be…” Castiel tried to ignore the nervous tense and flutter of his wings, hoping Dean’s ignorance would keep him from recognizing the emotions the movement betrayed, “an entirely different ceremony.”

“Oh, okay.” Dean nodded slowly. “So, this is like one of those friendship promises. Where we both spit in our hands and shake on it or whatever.”

Castiel tilted his head, scanning his mind for any information that might help him understand Dean’s reference. Perhaps there was some religious denomination that bonded in this way? Surely if it was a human thing he and Dean would have merged saliva years ago.

“There will be no need for us to…spit,” Dean’s eye roll indicated that Castiel had probably misinterpreted something. “The bonding is spiritual.” Castiel paused, if Dean wanted to partake in his own ‘friendship bonding’ ceremonies, Castiel should make it clear he respected that. “Though if you prefer, we could incorporate the trading of saliva into the bonding ceremony.”

Crimson flooded Dean’s skin at the offer. Perhaps he had misinterpreted something?

“Cas, you,” Dean sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know how you can grow up around so many humans and still not...” Dean trailed off with a laugh.

“Perhaps, I should continue to spend time on Earth, then.”

“Definitely.” Dean nodded, his hand still absently smoothing across his feathers. It seemed that once Dean had permission to touch, he had no intentions of letting go. Castiel was entirely okay with this. “So, what will we have to do, exactly?”

“You really didn’t pay any attention to angel studies at all, did you.” The question was very much rhetorical.

“Nope!” Dean said cheerily, ignoring Castiel’s reproachful look. “Why don’t you just show me?”

“Now?”

Dean shrugged, though Castiel could feel his nervous anticipation clearly enough. Dean was still a bit keyed up from everything but he was confident in his decision, of that much Castiel was certain.

“Yeah, why not. You can’t hide those things ‘til we do and as awesome as they are, you won’t be able to fit them in Baby and that will definitely be an issue.”

Castiel refrained from pointing out that he could just _fly_ them anywhere they needed to go. It didn’t matter how practical an alternative form of travel might be, Dean would never abandon the Impala.

Castiel rose smoothly to his feet, lamenting when it forced Dean to drop his hands and step back. “I will have to mark you.” Castiel said apologetically. “It will be permanent.”

“Stop trying to talk me out of this,” Dean said, reaching out and to shove at Castiel’s shoulder playfully. Castiel, unprepared for his body’s own changes, met Dean’s hand with rigid resistance before he could stop himself.

“ _Shit_.” Dean said, pushing at his shoulder again. When the angel still didn’t budge he grabbed both Castiel’s biceps and attempted to shake him. “You’re like made of Adamantium or something.”

Castiel was patient while Dean poked and prodded at his person, marveling in the knowledge that Dean felt comfortable enough to do this. It was odd, he still felt clearly every time Dean’s index finger pressed against his stomach or his forearm pushed against his chest. It was the same as before, but now each touch to his skin was electric, sending a sharp buzz through his skin as if Castiel was touching Dean’s soul directly.

Still, they had a bond to create. Dean could get distracted later.

“ _Dean_.” Dean looked up at Castiel from where he had been pressing kicks against his legs. “If you are finished? We should go.”

“Go?”

Castiel nodded, mentally skimming through different venues that would be appropriate for what they were about to do, while still being empty and private. He was still searching for a place as he responded. “Yes, this room is too small, and I feel I’ve made enough of a mess for now,” he said indicating the desk that was all but cleared off now that most of his belongings were on the floor. “I just need to figure out where we can go.”

“Uh, okay,” Dean said slowly, eyeing Castiel’s wings with a furrowed brow. Castiel was sure he was trying to figure out how to transport them.

Before Dean could suggest something ridiculous like actually trying to stuff the angel into his car, Castiel had located a place that would suit their needs.

“Okay.” Castiel said and he this time he reached out and braced his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “I have never attempted this on my own, obviously, but I am confident I can transport us safely.”

Dean’s confusion was evident in the way his whole body tensed. He looked at Castiel like he was crazy, clearly trying to hash out what it was the angel intended.

“Transport? The hell you mean?”

Castiel ignored his frankly ridiculous question. “Grab on to me,” he said firmly, smiling lightly when Dean did, his arms reaching out to grip Castiel’s sides just beneath his ribs. Castiel stepped forward until their chests were pressed together forcing Dean’s hands around his back as Castiel’s slid to grip just behind Dean’s elbows.

“Ready?”

Eyes wide, Dean looked completely confused, but it was a testament to the depth of their friendship that all he said was:

“Yeah?”

Castiel nodded and with a quick beat of his wings, they were gone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter, for now. I plan to write an epilogue soon (I started one yesterday, but I was busy watching my team lose in the first round of the playoffs - at freaking HOME - and it kind of killed my mood). I also plan to write a Destiel-y sequel in the near future. I didn't intend for this to be so gen/pre-slash until it was, but that's what happens when most of the story is written in the perspective of children. I can barely write from a child's POV, I am definitely am not ready for childhood romance.
> 
> Anyway, hope this was an enjoyable read, (especially for you cupidsbow!), even though I still feel like most of it is slightly rushed. I only wish I had started writing this sooner. Lesson learned!

When Dean’s feet hit solid ground again, his first thought was that his hangover hand returned.

Before he could do anything else, Dean stumbled back away from Cas, turned, and rested his head on the first sturdy surface he could find, trying regulate his breathing and keep his breakfast from making an encore appearance.

Distantly, Dean understood what had happened. Instead of walking or driving like a _normal_ _person_ , (and wow how long will it take Dean to remember that Cas technically _wasn’t_ a ‘person’, anymore), the damn feathered son-of-a-bitch had opted to literally fucking _fly_ them across the damn Earth or wherever, to some kind of place that Dean will actually look at once he’s properly dead, because he is definitely about to die right now.

Dean doesn’t register the two-finger touch to his forehead until the nausea and vertigo abruptly stops. By the time he looks up, Cas is pulling his hand away from Dean’s face and looking guilty.

“I apologize, Dean. I had, underestimated the toll angelic flight might take on your center of gravity.” Cas frowned at himself. “I should have flown more carefully.”

Dean straightened up and tried to look reassuring, even though Cas’s magic healing fingers couldn’t quite remove the tremble in his legs. “Hey, man, no harm done. Just maybe give a guy a bit more warning next time, alright?”

It said a lot about their friendship that Cas refrained from pointing out at that Dean really should have expected Cas to use his new _wings_ to _fly_.

“Of course, Dean.”

Dean nodded and took the opportunity to look at where exactly Cas had taken them. Dean probably shouldn’t have been surprised to find the angel had dropped them off in the aisle of a worn out church.

He couldn’t tell much at a glance other than the place seemed to be old and in some state of disrepair. Vaulted ceilings with aging beams hung high above them, slightly obscuring the chandeliers that swayed from the ceiling’s peak, casting thin shadows across the church floor. The carpet had a few intermittent stains here and there, faded from a dark brown to beige where it had been washed far too many times. Despite it all, the place was clean and probably still active, though it was quiet now.

He looked down and saw that he had been bracing himself, unsurprisingly, against a church pew. That, at least, had been freshly stained. Unlike the windows, who’s glass etchings seemed to have lost some of its color over the years. Still the place seemed oddly endearing, less ‘run down’ and more ‘well loved’ and wow, Dean, now’s not the time to turn into a girl., standing with your best friend/angel in the aisle of a church.

Dean had barely formed the thought that the place looked familiar when his eyes landed on the alter or, more specifically, the choir seats that Dean remembered crouching between nearly two decades ago, the day he accepted the odd kid named Castiel as his best friend. He stared at the red seats, now truly worn with age, and wondered if he wasn’t the only one that considered that awkward encounter the real beginning of their friendship.

When Dean turned back to Cas the angel looked sheepish, as if he understood the sentimentality of his decision to bring them here and wasn’t sure Dean would appreciate it.

“Is this alright?”

For a moment Dean let himself be distracted by the man before him. Well, not technically a ‘man’ but Dean would need a lot more time before breaking himself of that habit. Angel or human, Castiel was his friend. And now, meeting Cas’s stare while the _angel_ was still clad in his pajamas – in the _afternoon_ – with two dark wings held high and open against his back, Dean didn’t understand how anyone could have suspected otherwise.

“Yeah, Cas.” He whispered, knowing full well he was gonna lose all his man cards for this one. “It’s perfect.” Dean’s eyes made one more sweep of the place before settling back on Cas. “What do we do now?”

Cas nodded to the front of the sanctuary, “I think up there would be best.”

Walking up to the steps, Cas sat in front of the altar with his wings fully extended at his sides. The church wasn’t big, but it was still a _church_. Wide enough to fit two columns of pews with walking space to spare, and still Cas’s wings were just shy of brushing the walls.

Dean couldn’t imagine the idea that Cas’s wings would actually be larger than this. That this was what a _new_ angel’s wings looked like.

He hadn’t realized he was staring again until Cas politely whispered his name and brought his attention back.

Dean moved to stand in front of him, feeling awkward as hell. He dropped to a sitting position when Cas gestured at him, and for a while they just stared at each other.

“You should probably remove your shirt.”

Dean laughed, even if the sound was a bit tense. “Wow, Cas, what am I a cheap whore?” He shook his head in mock hurt. “Couldn’t even be bothered to buy me dinner first.”

“I have bought you dinner many times, Dean. _Shirt_.”

At this point, Dean really should know better. “Alright, alright, jeeze. Those wings have made you bossy.”

Dean tried to ignore just how marriage-y this all felt, creating an eternal bond at the _altar_ of a damn _church_. Instead he removed his shirt, sitting down in the space Cas indicated.

Cas, immune to the awkwardness, reached out and placed one hand on Dean’s bare chest, wrapping the other around Dean’s left arm.

Yeah, he was pretty sure _this_ was the gayest moment of his life. He seemed to have a lot of those with Cas,

Cas paused one last time and looked up at him. And, oh, Dean could tell by the look in his eyes that he was going to question Dean’s decision. _Again_. So Dean reached up and placed his own hand over the one on his chest. Might as well gay it up good, if he was going to do this.

When he spoke it was more like a whisper, “what do I need to do, Cas?”

Cas searched his face for a while, and Dean wondered what it was he saw.

“Just,” Cas took a deep breath and pressed a little closer.

Dean could feel the unnatural heat radiating off of him. Cas had always been a warmer than normal people, and Dean wondered why he never really noticed it before.

“Just relax. And try not to fight me, Dean.”

That was pretty ominous, but he trusted Cas. Dean nodded.

Cas closed his eyes and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Dean’s.

For a while, nothing happened. Cas just sat there, eyes closed and body pressing close. Dean tried not wiggle around impatiently. Feeling slightly uncomfortable at realizing just how comfortable he felt.

Suddenly, a bright light distracted him. He glanced down, careful not to separate himself from Cas.

The hand on his chest, as well as the one on his arm, he realized, had begun to glow. Or maybe it was Dean’s skin that was glowing? He couldn’t tell, but the light that pulsed out from their skin was impossibly bright and yet somehow not painful to look at at all. All the while heat radiated from the light, warming Dean up from the outside in.

“Cas?”

“It’s okay, Dean.”

Dean didn’t have much longer to wonder before an overwhelming pulse of energy radiated from Cas and _into_ Dean. Pressing against him and _through_ him.

His eyes slammed shut as he gasped out loud, feeling the weight of the light that he immediately recognized as _Castiel_ slide into the very core of him. For a disorienting moment, Dean couldn’t tell where he ended and Cas began. The two seemed to tangle together inside of him, Cas pulling pieces of Dean away while leaving some of himself behind.

Dean was so disconnected from his own body he wasn’t sure it hadn’t burned away completely from whatever was happening. There was only Cas. His best friend. The _angel_ who had been with him through every difficult moment in his insignificant human life. Cas, who stood by him though his anger and his mistakes. _Castiel_ , the angel who had chosen him, some random kid from Kansas, to bind his soul to.

As quickly as it started, it was over, and Dean was left breathing heavily, distantly relieved to find that his body was still very much in one piece.

Cas was little better. Dean still hadn’t opened his eyes, but he could hear Cas panting, feel every puff of air against his face where they were still pressed close. Dean had, at some point, reached out and wrapped his hands around the back of Cas’s neck. If it were anyone else, Dean would have jerked away immediately, and probably wouldn’t have been able to look them in the eye ever again.

It took Dean a little while to notice the pressure at his back. When he opened his eyes to look it was so dark that he thought, for a moment, that Cas might have moved them again. But when he turned his head to the side, careful not to remove himself from Cas, he realized it was Cas’s wings.

They looked different, somehow. Dean still saw the same gradient of colors, blacks and blues and flecks of silver, but it all seemed so much more intense than before, as if every color was its own tiny bulb of light.

Dean slid one of his hands away from Cas to reach out towards the feathers, inhaling sharply at the shift of energy that cascaded across his fingers. The wings looked so solid, but every time he touched them, it felt more like plunging his hand into an electrical storm. It was exactly like when he touched them, before, yet so much stronger. Dean wondered if he’d ever be tired of touching them.

“Dean.” Cas muttered.

This time, Dean did pull away slightly, turning to look at Cas, who was staring back at him with wide eyes. “ _Dean_.”

Dean wasn’t sure what Cas saw when he looked at him, but the wings curled around him even tighter, as if Cas was trying to pull Dean forward into his lap. Cas had always been kind of clingy growing up. Never bothering to respect Dean’s personal space and always forcing Dean to take his comfort as a physical thing, as if he knew all the things Dean wanted but would never ask for. Dean imagined Cas’s clinginess would be twice as bad now, after the bonding, if the overly protective look in Cas’s eyes was anything to go by.

Despite only being half dressed in an empty church, Dean had never felt so warm.

Cas released his arm where he’d had it in a death grip, drawing Dean’s attention. He turned to look at it, not having noticed the heated pain before now.

There burned into his bicep, was Cas’s handprint, the skin red and raised in a perfect mimicry of where Cas had been gripping him. He reached over and lightly pressed against the raised, angry skin, and was surprised to find it didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. The pain already dissipating.

When Dean looked back up at Cas, the angel gripped the back of his head and pressed his lips against Dean’s cheekbone, just beneath his eye.

Later, Cas told Dean that he had never shined brighter.


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not read over this. I have no beta.

They sat in the church until Dean began to fidget.

Truthfully, Castiel felt he could have sat there on the floor of the old church for much longer. It was an incomprehensible weight off his shoulders to finally be past this moment, to know that he would be able to remain on earth not simply because he was physically _able_ , but because the man – his best friend – with whom he had bound himself actually wanted him there.

For a while after the ritual ended, much longer than Castiel had expected to be allowed, they remained where they were: Castiel sitting on the dusty steps, Dean incased within his arms and wings. It was comfortable. Perfect. Similar to the way Gabriel had often identified his relationship with Kali – though they had been romantically involved in a way he and Dean weren’t, so Castiel wasn’t certain that it would feel the same, but it did.

So Castiel made no move to rise from this position, instead turning his attention to the brand on Dean’s shoulder. He hadn’t actively thought through how he would mark Dean, or where. Even with all the time he _had_ to think about it, imagining the opportunity to brand Dean seemed far too hopeful, and in the heat of the moment he had simply grabbed Dean’s shoulder in the same way he often did.

Reaching out with tentative fingers, he lightly traced the contours of the raised skin. Being this close to him, he could sense Dean’s lack of pain at the touch, and when there wasn’t any resistance or discomfort, Castiel continued to press through the brand. Dean’s breath hitched slightly, but he didn’t say anything. He ran his thumb over the impression of his palm, his fingertips over the imprint of his knuckles. Dean’s skin rose up with goose bumps at the attention.

Altogether it was an interesting sensation.

He could detect the familiar hum of his grace where it now resided within Dean, curling around and through the blinding light of his soul as if it knew it belonged there. As if it’s solitary purpose was to protect Dean. Which, really wasn’t too far off. That _was_ partially what the handprint represented, after all.

His wings undulated slightly with his focus, causing the barest ripple of light to leak in through his feathers where they were completely encased around Dean. He could see well enough in the dim light, but he could sense Dean’s eyes somewhat straining to focus. Perhaps for the best. Castiel knew Dean well enough to surmise he would not be entirely comfortable with this somewhat intimate moment if he knew just how well Castiel could see him.

Regardless, the reprieve couldn’t last long and, once Dean’s shifting became impossible to ignore, Castiel pulled back as much as he could, finally extracting his wings from where they curled around Dean and flattened then against his back. He sat back to gave Dean a moment to blink away the darkness, stretching his wings out at his sides once more and relishing the freedom to move. The cramped space of his bedroom had been more confining than he originally realized.

He was surprised, though he probably shouldn’t have been, by how easily he had taken to them. Even though he had only had his wings less than a day, they were already a part of him, moving instinctively to his intentions. When he made to stand, they stretched out to balance him. When he reached down to offer Dean a hand, they beat forward to assist in helping Dean to his feet – another task that was significantly easier than it once had been, to the point that Castiel was sure he could probably carry Dean with little effort.

Though he doubted Dean would care for that too much.

“Well, alright. Um,” Dean looked away from Castiel, seemingly focused in the task of locating his shirt, which he grabbed and pulled on hastily. “So, that was, something.” Dean adjusted and then readjusted the cloth, blatantly betraying his nervousness, (had Castiel not already been very much attuned to Dean’s anxiety). Dean picked at his sleeve, preoccupied with where the fabric was covering Castiel’s handprint.

Castiel, far from unfamiliar with Dean’s propensity to become awkward in any kind of emotionally significant situation, didn’t take offense to Dean’s behavior. Truly, he was relieved it had gone so well, all things considered.

“Yes.” He said, earning Dean’s attention. He offered a small smile in return. “It was.”

Dean stared back at him for a moment before clearing his throat and looking away again.

“Ok, so,” Dean continued to prod at the handprint through the shirt, letting that take his focus for a moment. Castiel didn’t mind. “So, there gonna be any long term effects of this, uh,” he looked back and waved his hand between them, indicating Castiel and himself.

“Bond?”

“Yeah.”

Castiel considered this. “Nothing, dramatic.” He said carefully. “I will be more aware of you, though that would have been true regardless. Our connection will just be stronger than normal.” He frowned. “This would be a lot easier if you’d paid attention in school, Dean.”

“Jeeze.” Dean crossed his arms, but Castiel could tell his exasperation was largely feigned. “Lay off, _Sam_.”

Castiel chose to ignore him. “Also, you will now be able to pray to me directly, though, again, that is because of my angelic status rather than our bond, so it is not limited to you.”

Dean’s face twisted into a mildly incredulous look. “ _Pray_ to you? Like, ‘now I lay me down to sleep, hey Cas how’s it going’?”

“Technically, yes. I will be especially tuned to your prayers, but if someone like Sam chose to pray to me, I’d be able to hear him as well. Though, perhaps, not as vividly.”

Dean nodded as if taking in this new information. All things considered, Castiel felt he was adjusting to the knowledge that Castiel was an angel quite well.

“Speaking of,” Dean leaned forward to and straighten a couple feathers that had become bent. Castiel was pretty sure Dean’s adverted attention was deliberate. “Does Sam know?”

“Know?”

“That you’re an angel?”

“Oh.” Castiel considered this. If a human had indeed guessed his true nature, it’s unlikely the angels would do anything about it as long as that person kept it to themselves. He didn’t _think_ Sam knew, but Dean’s brother could be very intuitive when he wanted to be. And _Sam,_ at least, paid attention in school. “He’s never said anything.”

“And you never told him.”

Castiel shook his head.

“Ok,” Dean nodded seemingly to himself. “Ok, good.”

Castiel smiled but didn’t comment.

“So what about those?”

Dean gestured to Castiel’s wings, which fluttered and arched under the attention. He really needed to get a better hand at controlling their unconscious reactions. He was certain they would give Gabriel _something_ to tease him for. It didn’t help that they practically preened whenever Dean acknowledged them with his eyes or touch.

“What about them?”

Dean chuckled. “All due respect, Cas, those things are pretty sweet but they aren’t exactly inconspicuous. I thought once we, y’know, _bonded_ ,” Dean said a little awkwardly, “that they’d, I dunno, hide themselves or something?”

Castiel rolled his shoulders, focusing his intent in the same way he had done before when manipulating the lock on his bedroom door. By the time the movement was finished, his wings had faded from this plane entirely.

Dean jumped back in surprise.

“The hell?” Dean moved forward to circle around Castiel, no doubt inspecting his back to see if he could detect any evidence that the wings had been there. Castiel knew he would find none.

“Where’d they _go_?” He asked, pressing his palm against the flat, unmarred skin of Castiel’s back.

“My wings are still there, Dean. They are simply residing in another plane. That way they will not be spatially confined and no one, besides other angels, will be able to perceive them.” Castiel glanced over his shoulder and saw the same faint hinting of wings that looked so similar, if not much smaller, that the ones he had grown up watching curl around Gabriel’s shoulders.

The wings weren’t so much _visual_ as humans might understand it. They didn’t impede Castiel’s vision in any way. Even though Dean stood behind the shadow of his wings Castiel could still see his face as clearly as if he had been standing directly in front of him.

Dean hummed in acknowledgement, though Castiel doubted he fully understood. It was difficult to explain such a thing to a human, with their limited senses. Instead, Dean continued to poke and prod at the skin of Castiel’s back, as if certain he’d find evidence of wings if he searched hard enough.

When Dean flattened his palms against the skin between Castiel’s shoulder blades and tried pushing forward, Castiel twitched.

“ _Dean_.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Dean circled around him, back straight and seemingly ready for business. “Alright, what now?”

“Well,” Castiel tilted his head, hearing the distinct thrum of Gabriel’s congratulations. He’d been singing his encouragement pretty much since Castiel confessed to Dean. “It is lunch time. We could eat?”

Dean stared at him long enough that Castiel started to wonder if he might have said the wrong thing before he threw his back and laughed.

“Dean?”

Despite his confusion, Castiel allowed himself to enjoy the way Dean’s humor made the residual tension bleed from Dean’s shoulders. Warm curls of humor emanated from his soul, enough to overpower the discomfort he’d been sensing up until now.

“Nothing, it’s just,” Dean shrugged, “I just thought we might have to report to the Angel High Council or some shit.”

Castiel squinted at Dean, he was pretty sure his friend was joking.

“There is no high council, Dean, and the angels will already be aware of our bond. We do not need to report to anyone.” He ignored Dean’s eye roll. “Though Gabriel would like to see us, since we’re here. I think he’s making a Sheppard’s pie.”

\- - - -

“Oh, man,” Dean leaned back and covered his face with both hands as a rather obvious detail came to mind. “Does this mean Gabriel’s one of the,” Dean stopped himself from saying ‘feathered assholes’ just in time, he’ll need to watch that kind of shit, now, “ _angels_ too?”

When Dean looked over at him, Cas was doing that thing where he tilts his head and speaks very slowly - usually because Dean just asked a stupidly obvious question that he’s sure he must have misinterpreted because literally no one could be that thick.

“Yes, Dean. Gabriel is the appointed guardian for Inias and me.”

“Figures.” Dean threw his arms up and decided to postpone the inevitable process of reevaluating _every moment of his childhood_ now that he had this new information. Part of him was sure this whole experience was going to be horribly traumatic. “No human that small could consume that much sugar and survive.”

“Indeed.”

A somewhat awkward silence fell between them after that. Dean wasn’t accustomed to feeling the need to fill their silences, but there was something so inherently different about them now. It was as if he could literally feel the weight of all the things they still had to talk about. It didn’t help that Dean’s mind was still trying to make the connection between this celestial being and his best friend who, oddly enough, looked remarkably similar.

“Well, I guess we should,” Dean jerked his head towards the door, hoping that some of the normalcy might be restored in the light of day.

Speaking of celestial beings, between one blink and the next, Cas was fully dressed again – Dean may or may not have jumped back a little. Another thing he’d have to get used to.

Cas must have sensed Dean’s discomfort – or noticed the jump of surprise that didn’t happen – because he seemed more contrite after that. Without a word, the two made their way towards the doors of the church, Cas falling a step or two behind Dean.

Dean rolled his shoulders, subsequently resisting the urge to rub at the now-permanent hand mark on his shoulder, (and wasn’t that just all kinds of weird). All in all, he felt, surprisingly awesome post angel-bond – physically speaking at least, his mind was still quite determinedly _not thinking things_. They still had a lot to hash out, and no matter how sure he was about this bond, Cas had still lied to Dean for a long time. Dean had a feeling that, once they did lay everything out in the open, he’d have a hard time not being angry.

“I’m still kind of pissed you know.” Dean said stepping out of the old church and into the sunlight. The world seemed oddly unaffected, even though Dean’s entire _life_ had changed in the span of a few hours. He side-eyed Cas when the _angel_ , (freaking _angel_ ), moved to stand next to him. “You lied to me for a long time.”

“I know.”

“We’re going to fight about this.”

Cas sighed, but he looked resigned. “I know.”

“I’m going to be a jerk about it. I’ll definitely say some dumb shit.”

Cas’s lips quirked slightly. “I know.”

“Good.” Dean nodded. No matter how much shit they had to air out eventually, Dean really, really didn’t want to do it now.

Turning to face Cas fully Dean was struck with just how quickly he had gotten used to seeing Cas with wings. He looked so much smaller without them, almost unbalanced. When in reality Cas looked the same as he always had. The sunlight still beat down on his thick mop of perpetual bed hair, his clothes – no longer pajamas, Dean noted, but his dark jeans and the blue sweater Dean bought him on a whim a few months ago when he was driving Sam to look at colleges – were as pressed and wrinkle-free as always, and he still stood far too stiffly for someone who should be comfortable with his surroundings.

Cas had always been a little unique. Maybe this angel thing shouldn’t be such a surprise. He’d have to ask Sam.

“Wait a minute,” Dean glanced down the street he had grown up on and then back at Cas. “If your wings are all MIA how are we getting _home_?”

Cas, the bastard, literally rolled his eyes. “They are hidden, Dean, not _gone_.” Cas said. “I can still fly. Whether human eyes can see them or not.”

Dean ignored the hell out of the ‘human eyes’ remark. He didn’t really like the subtle reminder that he and Cas were no longer the same species. This thing was definitely going to give him some kind of a complex. He could just see Cas flitting off to hang out with his new, much cooler _angel_ friends who _got_ Cas in a way Dean was slowly realizing he probably never would. Dean knew Cas would never abandon him – probably – but that didn’t mean Dean wouldn’t lose him in other ways.

Dean squinted his eyes as another thought occurred to him, “you’re not going to be spoiled on those things are you?” He jabbed a finger over Cas’s shoulder at where he assumed his wings were hiding. “I don’t know what I’d tell Baby if you found another method of travel.” Dean carefully avoided how much it’d hurt Dean if Cas abandoned his car. He knew no one _appreciated_ her as much as he did, but Cas seemed more accepting of Dean relationship with the Impala. To find out, now, that it had all been cheap indulgence, would be hard for Dean to take. And he could never tell Baby the truth. She loved Cas.

Cas closed his eyes and shook his head, but there was more humor than exasperation in the movement. “Never, Dean.” He opened his eyes and quirked his lips up at the corners in a rare smile. “I would miss her far too much.”

Dean didn’t fight the bubble of affection that burst in his chest at the words, and the resulting grin was wide enough to hurt.

“Too right.”

\- - - -

They did end up stopping by Gabriel’s. Partially because Dean was morbidly curious to know how much had changed between the three of them, now that Dean knew the truth and he and Cas had sealed their ‘best friends forever’ oath or whatever. And partially because they _were_ nearby, (and Dean was starving).

Dean had never really been able to quantify his relationship with Gabriel. The guy – angel, whatever, _Jesus_ – was somewhat enigmatic. Gabriel wasn’t the kind of person who often _said_ what he was thinking, but he let you know in other ways. Dean had a somewhat bumpy childhood, and being able to find refuge in Cas’s house was, sometimes, the only thing that kept him going. Gabriel had never asked many questions, and it was rare that he would actually voice his opinion on the more serious aspects of Dean’s life, but he showed he gave a shit about Dean and Sam in the way his constantly kept his door open for them. In how he would cook them meals and _not ask questions_ and basically allow the brothers into their family dynamic without complaint. Dean wondered, now, how much of a concession Gabriel had to make by allowing two humans into his home. He had always been a full angel, and Dean was certain he must have needed to hide things when the Winchesters were around.

All in all, Dean was grateful for the presence Gabriel had in their lives, and now he had become even more aware of how much Cas’s family had done for him.

But that didn’t mean Gabriel didn’t piss him off.

Gabriel pulled open the door before Dean and Cas had even made it to the stoop.

“Well!” Gabriel grinned, throwing his arms wide. “If it isn’t my dear Cassie bringing his human home to meet the family.”

Dean frowned, trying rectify this small, energetic dude with a fucking angel. “Gabe, you’ve known me for years.”

“Perhaps,” Gabriel reached forward and effortlessly pulled Dean into a one-armed hug. “But now you’re officially part of the family.” He grinned over at Cas, pulling Dean with him where his arm was still around his shoulder. “And here I thought Cassie would never work up the nerve to tell you.”

”Gabriel.” Cas warned.

Dean watched as Gabriel turned to Cas and seemed to really look at him for the first time. His eyes scanned over Cas’s face and shoulders and the area behind him where his wings presumably were hidden. Dean wasn’t sure exactly what Gabriel saw when he looked at Cas, but his eyes softened and his smile slid into something a little less mocking and a little more proud.

Of course, as it was with Gabriel, the quiet moment didn't last long.

“Oh, lighten up, Castiel!” Gabriel squeezed his arm around Dean’s shoulders one more time before pulling him inside. “Let’s go get some lunch and you can tell me _all_ about it.”

And, honestly, if Gabriel hadn’t been a _supremely_ good cook, Dean might have bailed.

He needn’t have worried though. The dynamic between the three of them was remarkably easy. Gabriel stood at the stove, pattering on about Kali and how they’d met and their first bonding. It was remarkably interesting, despite all the awkward innuendos and the moments of _too much information_ , which was really par for the course with Gabriel.

Dean sat at the kitchen island with a plate of Sheppard’s pie and a promise of apple pie later. He knew that once the reality of everything settled in, he’d probably have his own grade-A freak out, but for now, sitting here with Cas next to him and a plate of food in front of him, in the house where he practically grew up, he was home.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings (for the entire fic, so slight spoilers): domestic violence against a minor in which John punches Dean on two separate occasions and pushes him down once. There's no lasting damage. Dean also (verbally) defends John to other people. Mentions of divorce and canonical death of a parent (non-graphic). People cry (Dean), and some threats are made (by Castiel). Also, language ('fuck', 'shit', 'damn', 'goddamn', 'pissed'...you know, the basics).
> 
> Uh, it might get kinda blasphemous near the end (sorta not really)? I assume anyone who would find this stuff offensive is probably not watching Supernatural. But just in case.
> 
> In case anyone is confused, I in no way own Supernatural or anything affiliated with it. I just wrote this fic.


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